


tayo, sa ilang kislap ng mga tala (us, in the light of the stars)

by sisinala



Category: Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral (2018), Heneral Luna (2015)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, fluff so fluff cottoncandy cant compare, fluff so fluffy its clouds, there's angst now i'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-07-23 20:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16166414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisinala/pseuds/sisinala
Summary: Small fluffy bits for the inktober prompts + occassional angst (hopefully)





	1. Poison (Jovente)

**Author's Note:**

> I can't draw, so for Inktober I will write. Fluff is challenging but I hope I have enough energy for it :)

                The provincial air was really something to miss if you spend majority of your time in a city. Joven relished in the clean air, the trace of valley grass and plants. He was driving with his windows down. The sunlight came down harsh but the cool wind made up for it. He really congratulated himself with thinking of this project that doubled as a vacation. How many years has it been? God, he missed home.

                _Home is here._ His father died in some war and his mother died early so he was passed around relatives quite a bit. But, he considered his paternal grandmother’s home as the happiest home he’d been to. The old woman loved him to pieces, and it was sad that Joven only got to spend the second decade of his life there. If it wasn’t for his grandmother’s death, he wouldn’t have ever left.

                _I miss you Nanay. How have you been?_

                In that moment, a white butterfly passed by the open window to his right. He was driving slowly, nobody else was on the road and he was enjoying the sights—the tiny butterfly circled his hand a bit, then it flew away. He stopped the car, watched it disappear in the trees.

                _Hello, ijo_

And he felt the memory of the warmest hug he’d received—moments before his Nanay passed, she told him that she’d watched over him.  He sincerely believed that in his heart, and here was his Nanay, welcoming him back home.

_I’ve been well, Nanay_

He spent a few moments in the car. A few tears fell. _God he missed everything._ After a while, he collected himself and restarted the car. _Here I was happy._ He felt silly for crying, but then he reminded himself that’s it’s okay to miss the things that made him happy.

He sped up a little bit, smile on his face.

...

                He revelled on the sound of the chimes of the tea place he and his Nanay frequented when he was a boy. Nobody would probably believe him, but he used to be a problem child. It was why his relatives frequently gave up on him. He was too angry at being abandoned, too sad. Too emotional. But the old woman took one good look at him, the band-aid on his fists, the bridge of his nose and asked, “do you want some tea?”

                She didn’t even give his aunt the time to explain why he was being foisted onto her, she just held his hand and dragged him across the road, where there was a tea shop in the name of Enriquez Tea House. It was the first time he had tasted tea, but he wouldn’t be able to forget the taste, the smell of it. Nothing he tasted after could compare.

                The owner of the house was another gentle grandmother who always smiled with her eyes. She couldn’t speak, and he had been fascinated by the way his Nanay talked to her with her hands. The fires of the ten year old delinquent Joven had been tempered by tea and sign language he learned so he could say thank you to Lola Ising.

                The inside was pretty much the same, only there were paintings on the walls that hadn’t been there five years ago. All abstracts in calming blues and greens. There was nobody else inside.

                Manning the counter was someone, almost the same age as him, wearing Lola Ising’s favorite green apron—that same maroon patch on the left pocket confirmed his thoughts. Who was he?

 _Hello,_ the man signed. His smile reached his eyes, crinkled in the corners. He saw the resemblance to Lola Ising immediately, the same contentedness in the peace and quiet. He was beautiful, too.

                He pointed at a piece of paper taped on the counter, written on it was _‘Hello, I am Vicente. I can’t hear and speak. Please write down your order. Thank you for your patience’._

                “Hello, I am Joven. I was the one who e-mailed last week”, he signed back.

                “You know sign!” Vicente’s eyes sparkled.  

                “Yes, my Lola taught me, so I can talk to Lola Ising. Is she here?” Vicente’s shoulders dropped, his lips pressed together.

                “I’m sorry, but my Lola passed away last year. I took over the shop a few years before. It’s only me here now”

                “Oh, I’m so sorry about that. My condolences. I miss her too”

                “How do you know my Lola?”

                “She was friends with my grandmother. I lived with her for a while, on the house across the street”

                “Oh, you are Joven, Joven!” His eyebrows raised in question, then Vicente continued, “My Lola would always talk about the boy across the street. I only arrived here after you left but she always had a story about you. She missed you too. Anyway, you’re here for the article, right?” Vicente was signing too fast, blushing. Joven almost lost track of half of what he was saying, rusty as he was.

                “Oh, yes”

                “Please come with me” Vicente opened the counter door and led him inside by the elbow. Vicente’s hands were shaking. Why was he nervous? Vicente probably saw the question in his eyes and replied,

                “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just that people here usually don’t know sign. I haven’t talked to anyone else this much in a while” Joven didn’t know what to reply to that, because he was too lost in the happiness in Vicente’s eyes. It was then that they noticed that because of the small space behind the counter, they were standing too close. Both of them looked away. Joven wished Vicente wouldn’t be able to see his red ears.

                “Please come inside” He led Joven into the greenhouse at the back. He’d been here multiple times, courtesy of Lola Ising who let him play among the plants that went into the teas. It was a large greenhouse, and it’s the reason why the Enriquez Tea House was special, they grew their own with love. It was why he wants to feature this place in their magazine. He wanted everyone to have a piece of this little slice of heaven.

                There were a lot more plants than he remembered, more colors of flowers than he knew existed. Without thinking, he touched a leaf and brought his face close to it accidentally touching it to his chin. He was okay for a while, then the burn came—along with Vicente’s hands.

                “That’s poison ivy!” They were both panicking, but thankfully Vicente had enough sense to drag him inside to the sink.

                “Wash it off! Wash it off!” Joven did, and the cool water almost soothed the burn. He stayed there for a few minutes, letting the cool water wash through his face and hands. Vicente was there when he looked up, a towel in his hands. He took no time, gently dabbing the white cloth to Joven’ chin.

                “I’m really sorry, I forgot to tell you that I have a passion for dangerous plants. I’ve separated them from the others but I didn’t put up a sign because I’ve never thought anyone would visit, I’m really sorry” While watching him, Joven concluded that Vicente’s brows were very expressive. It was stupid really, but the thing he felt wasn’t the burn on his hands, but his heart clenching. The sunlight was falling in a golden glow behind Vicente, highlighting the bronze in his eyes. He was too beautiful for his own good.

                “Joven?”

                “Oh, I’m sorry. Um, can I maybe order some tea? Bocha please?” They laughed. It was stupid.

                He watched Vicente’s hands while he worked. It was fascinating how focused he looked while preparing the tea that only took him a few minutes to prepare. After that, they took to an empty table by the window and talked. After a few minutes of jotting down for his article, Joven tried to ask about Vicente.

                “I was a problem kid. Full of rage and whatnot. I was in the military before I came here. I got assigned to somewhere very problematic. A bomb went off by me, destroying my hearing. The trauma made me mute”

                “Oh”

                “It’s okay, it was a long time ago”

                “The tea calmed me down”

                “The tea calmed me down too”

                They spent the whole afternoon talking about their grandmothers, then their work, then their plans for the future. Joven didn’t know what, but he felt something he couldn’t place. Something that made his chest float and his hands shake.

                “Vicente, will you be here tomorrow?”

                “Uh, yes? I open the shop every day except Sundays, why?”

                “I don’t think I have enough for my article. Can I maybe take pictures of the shop and the greenhouse tomorrow?” Vicente was blushing again. Joven did too. Lola Ising had shared maybe far too much about him.

                “Oh, sure”

                “I’ll be here, then” Joven couldn’t make himself move through the door.

                “See you” Vicente glowed in the sunset. His smile made Joven’s heart clench again.

                He realized it before he got inside Nanay’s house, his hand on the knob.

_Vicente felt like home._


	2. Tranquil (Felidios)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicidad watches her wife under a million million stars

                Felicidad woke up to a pain on her arm. She tried moving it, but she realized when she opened her eyes that Remedios’ head was on it—and she would be dead before she bothered this little workaholic’s rest. It was so good be married and in honeymoon. She didn’t know when the last time either of them took a vacation. Love feels so good it hurts sometimes.

                Speaking of hurt, well her arm fell asleep maybe a few hours ago—but Remedios’ nose was scrunched up in her dreams and there is nothing she wouldn’t do for this woman. Which is why they were asleep outside, on a too small hammock in front of the ocean because Remedios wanted to see the sunset. Now, the stars were out. It wasn’t advertised along with the white sand beach and the kayaks but they should’ve. Millions and millions of stars, shining in the way Remedios’ eyes did when she was telling Felicidad about some adventure she had while being a social worker. _The children were so beautiful and the people were so kind. We ate together and I wish I spent this day with you._

                _You did, Remedios_ , she said. _You keep me in your heart, don’t you?_ She was silent on the other line which meant only one thing, her heart was clenching in that semi-heart attack way Felicidad’s did.

                “Fel?” Oh damn, she was having fun just watching her sleep.

                “Yeah?” And then she yawned and stretched, probably forgetting that they were on the hammock and they shook and Felicidad had to plant both her feet on the ground so they won’t fall.

Remedios laughed at that and kissed her.

                “I love you”

                “Well, I do too. But don’t do that again, we’ll fall”

                “Haven’t we already?” Felicidad laughed. Being loved was making her stupidly happy.

                “That’s cute, but I don’t want to spend the rest of our honeymoon with broken ankles”

                “Wow! That sky! Why didn’t they say that on the brochure?”

                “I wanted to wake you up”

                “You should’ve. Wow, this view is awesome” Remedios fell back on her arm, and then hugged her too tight she couldn’t breathe.

                “I’m so, so happy”

                “Well, I hope so. Because we just got married, spent the day in bed and watched the sunset—“

                “You’re so— sometimes “

                “What?”

                “I don’t know”, she laughed and then, “I love you”

                “Well, I hope so” Feli laughed at their silliness, and then she hugged Remedios and nuzzled on her favorite place on the crook of her neck.

                “Say it back, you!”

                “I married you! Don’t you get it?”

                “Ah!” Feli added another mark on her neck. _Felicidad was here._

                “I love you too” And then Remedios retrieved her camera from somewhere and took a picture of the sky.

                “This is the 236th time you told me”         

                “Why are you still keeping track though?”

                “I’m a Nable-Jose. We love to keep track of everything” It was true. She had a whole album of just stolen photographs of Feli doing whatever. She had an album for all the times she told Remedios she loves her. She had an album of all the places she’d been. Remedios hardly ever forgot anything.

                “Do you?” And then Felicidad kissed her so soundly her eyes were unfocused afterwards.

                “How many times have I kissed you now?”

                “Uh—Wha—“

                _God, I love her._ Thank you for giving me this woman. I may be an Aguinaldo and some of our promises are worth shit, but I swear on Your stars that I promise I’ll love her every day that I can breathe.

                And then, with some miracle, the few clouds in the sky brought rain. Remedios stuffed her camera inside the waterproof bag and ran. Towards the water. Laughing.

                “Remedios you’re going to get pneumonia!”

                “Well you’re going to get roots. Come here and love me!” So she ran.

                Remedios looked perfect, under the sea of stars and the rain falling gently down. She splashed some water and it reflected the light from above and her eyes sparkled with love as she looked at her.

                Felicidad brought her up in her arms and kissed her, again. Just because she can.


	3. Roasted (Grecinto)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ilyong and Goyong and their never ending pissing contest turns into a 'fake' relationship.

                Taylor Swift has been singing for quite a while now. The restaurant’s playlists probably only consists of her discography. She was singing about trouble that walks in, something he only knows because she was Goyo’s favorite artist and _No, Ilyong, I won’t turn down my music so you can study. You can study with Taylor’s beautiful lyrical masterpieces and maybe you can get grades as high as mine._

                Goyo was late. Again.

                Ilyong was hungry, and it made him twice as annoyed because the dumb shit was making him wait. It didn’t help that the whole restaurant was packed with people, and that people in the lines have been eyeing him for sitting eating only a salad in a barbecue place for what—thirty minutes now? Goyo would pay for this. Literally.  

                He got out his study materials, better get something done while he waits for king douche to arrive. He didn’t really know what kind of desperation brought him to this, this pretend relationship that has lasted for almost half a year now.

                He knew Goyo all his life, their parents knew and kind of hated each other. He was the Mabinis’ golden boy, and he was the Bonifacio-Rizal’s. All their school parents’ meetings have been tense stand offs that resulted in awkwardness for the young Ilyong. Goyo might act stupid, but he was really quite intelligent. Ilyong hated that he didn’t even appear to put half of the amount of effort on the same things they do. He always worked his ass off while his roommate (unfortunately) played games all day. So, yeah, that was the chip on his shoulder.

                _They lived in the same place._ Where was he?

                “Hey babe, sorry I’m late”

                “It’s just us here, Goyo”

                “Nope, it’s not. The people at the other table—no, don’t look—yeah, they look like a couple but they’ve been following me for days now” Which brings them to their current situation. Goyo was a known actor—yes, in addition to being a stellar student and a varsity. For some unexplainable reason, a lot of people regard him as very handsome and love to follow him around and harass him.

                He was ranting to him about it, and his usually brilliant mind fizzled when Goyo begged him to help him.

_What do you think about it, Emilio? It’ll be fun. You get to be my boyfriend and they’ll lay off me._

_You must forget that all of the Philippines knows your stupid face._

_Why, are you afraid of the press? Or are you afraid you can’t do it?_ He had the gall to look triumphant. He knew Ilyong would never back down at a challenge.

 _Well, let’s do it._ Well, the blush on Goyo’s face wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

                “Please act like you’re pleased to see me”

                “Well I ain’t”

                “Please babe, for me?” Now, usually Ilyong would tell you he’s quite a calm person when unprovoked. And yes, he hates Goyo’s guts—but that way that he smiles like he just got the 900 million lotto prize is something only Ilyong knows. He knows because that’s Goyo’s best gloating smile. So he really doesn’t know what his heart is doing right now.

                “That’s my Emilio”

                “Fuck you”

                “Babe, not here” He seethes on the inside. He was blushing because he was angry.

                “Can we not do this in front of my salad?”

                “Oh, you ate without me”

                “You were late for thirty minutes”

                “Oh, sorry babe. I forget how hungry you get. I must feed you more often” And then he smiled in the same way again. Ilyong really hated him. No, really.

                “I’m sorry I was late. I was being followed. You remember the last time we walked in the mall? The girls who talked to you? I didn’t wanna bring them here. Sorry” This was the thing about their stupid deal. Goyo never stops acting like they were together. Even in the dormitory he gets all boyfriend-y on him. He would bring Ilyong snacks for when he studies, he would walk him to class, sometimes when he gets really crabby Goyo even cooks him his favorite _Knorr_ soup because he knows it diffuses him. Which was really weird because it blurred Ilyong’s hard-drawn lines. It was hard that they knew each other so well.

_He must be having a lot of fun playing with me._

                “Goyo, I have something to tell you”

                “Uh-oh. Can we eat first?”

                “I’m serious”

                “I’m hungry. Please, Emilio?” He doesn’t know why he lets that smile work everytime.

_Why do you call me that?_

_What?_

_My name’s Ilyong_ , he argued, the first time they met and they were already butting heads.

 _Because your name is just too beautiful._  

                _It’s your father’s name_

_Yeah, but I don’t call him that_

_My name means ‘rival’_

_I know. And mine means ‘watchful’, so I’ll be watching you_. The bastard winked.

                “Fine”

                So they ate. Goyo does his part very seriously, he was an actor after all. He arranges the barbecued meats for him, serves him more than he needs to eat, and makes sure he drinks water, afterward. _You cheat the unlimited thing, if you don’t drink_ , he said on their first date. Well, all’s fair. Sometimes he pretends it’s true, too.

                “Goyong, stop eating too quickly, you’ll get dyspepsia again”

                “But I love it when you take care of me”

                “I won’t if you do it to yourself”

                “Okay, okay. For you”

                “Don’t talk when your mouth’s full” And then he wiped the bit of barbeque sauce on the corner of Goyo’s lip. Just because it was there and it was annoying him.

                “Thank you”, Goyo’s eyes were rarely focused, but when they are, they are intense.

                “For what?”

                “For being here”

                “I’m always here”

                “I know. That’s why I’m thanking you. Even though you hate my guts, I love that you’re here”

                “Goyong, I think that’s crossing a line”

                “Okay, okay I’ll stop. But don’t forget it, okay?”

                “Whatever you say”

                The couple beside them stood up and left. Ilyong breathed deeply. It was over.

                “Let’s go?”

                “Why?”

                “They’re gone?”

                “We’re still eating”

                “Oh. Okay”

                “Don’t let them stress you out, Emilio. It’s just us here”

                “It’s not. I thought you wanted to leave”

                “Why? You’re here. Where would I go?” It’s him saying that that’s got Ilyong in trouble.

                So they finished eating, and watched a movie about some general guy, and then they walked back to their dorm. It was chilly, December was fast approaching and—

                “Here”, Goyo was handing him his jacket.

                “Why?”

                “I know how cold you get”

                “Fine” Just because he smells nice.

                “You know, it’s been long since we’ve been together, Emilio. Do you think I should announce it to the press?”

                “They’ll have a field day about that. But, no, I don’t think you should do that. That’s going too far for a fake relationship” Goyo’s hand froze as he was closing the door.

                “A- A what?”

                “A fake relationship. I don’t think you should play me like that. I won’t do that to myself, Goyong”

                “What are you talking about? We just spent six months and three days together, _Ilyong._ Why are you doing this to me?”

                “W-What?”

                “Our relationship is fake?”

                “I don’t—you said it!”

                “When?!”

                “N—It was implied wasn’t it? You’ll never take me seriously! We hate each other!”

                “I don’t hate you”

                “Well—I do! Stop playing with me, Goyo! If this is something—“ Goyo’s eyes were beyond anger. He stepped, too slowly, in front of Ilyong.

                “Do you think this is a joke to me?”

                “You’ve never said otherwise” Ilyong can’t look him in the eyes.

                “Well, know this, then” Goyong was too near, he smelled beautiful.

                And then he was everywhere at once, his hand on his chin, the other one on his back, and his lips on his. What was going on? Oh. _Oh._

                “I love you. I can’t believe—” His eyes were still angry, still wanting to prove it.

                Too many things were happening too fast. Ilyong’s brilliant brain couldn’t keep up.

                “I think I do too”


	4. Spell (Felidios)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remedios is in-game in love with her in-game wife. Felicidad has her under her spell. They meet up in real life.

They were conducting a raid when Remedios met the player with the username <Fel>. She was holding a very light purple sleeping potion, which she knew she was about to hurl at the monster they were hunting. But instead of hitting the monster, the throw came a bit off and the bottle landed way too close to her.

“I’m so sorry!” But the words were already blurring and all she saw before she was out of it, was a violet mess of witch hurtling toward her.

Dreams in the game-world were surreal. A mess of memories of reality and in-game experiences. It was like reverse tunnel vision, in which sights and sounds flood her in all directions. There was the memory of the first time she put on the game’s head gear, falling into a deep enough sleep so that her neurons could be affected in a much different way. The game was basically a simulated dream experience beyond imagining. She still remembered the first time she saw her own hands duplicated in its exact form. There was even that tiny mole that was almost too hard to see. The next five years passed by like a train moving at a too fast speed to see anything. It hurt and it hurt until she opened her eyes.

                The vertigo hit like a freight train.

                “Um, hello?” To which she would have responded something witty, something maybe a little bit sassy, but all that came out was a dizzy,

                “Ack, w—what’s in my mouth?”

                “I’m sorry, it’s another one of my potions.. It’s to help get rid of the effects of the sleeping one that I hit you with, I’m sorry”

                “Where are we?” They were in a quaint home, dried herbs and flowers hung from every space available. The wood was tinted orange from the sunset outside, chairs and tables and counters all in the same color. This was a new house, probably built by someone around level thirty. The witch she’s talking to probably started only a few months ago.

                “My home. The raid’s over, I’m so sorry. You looked important and I got yelled at for taking you away. But they seemed busy and I couldn’t leave you there—“ She was babbling, for someone whose eyebrows who looked stern enough to melt a man when raised in  particular manner. The witch’s hair and outfit was all in purple, favorite color maybe. Remedios couldn’t fault her though, she was also all in pink.

                Her hair was a mess, that much she could see. She raised her hand to her pounding head.

                “Here, drink more of this” Remedios was just knocked out by a girl almost four times lower than her current ranking, and she was being commanded like just that. But the girl’s eyes looked scary enough that she had no choice but to obey. She even used that dreaded eyebrow raise that Remedios should have expected. Should she—? Hell, her tarot cards said that she shouldn’t let her opportunities pass her by. She wanted to know this woman and how her potions could knock out somebody from the Crystal Leagues.

                “You now if you knocked me out, the least you could do is be _friends_ with me” Like in-game, not like—

                “Oh, uhm. Sure, I guess? Tea?”

...

                Remedios’ hands were shaking. Would it be too late to leave the cafe on some excuse and ditch this thing altogether? Yeah, she went to blind dates before, but all of them have ended badly or boringly. Her mother should really stop setting her up with dudes. _It’ll never work, Ma._

                Nonsense, she just hasn’t found the right guy yet.

                Remedios rolled her eyes.

                She’s twenty minutes early and now she’s regretting not deciding on being fashionably late.

                The cafe smelled nice, almost the same way that Fel’s home did when she woke up all those months ago. After they figured out that they were in the same country, the same city even, they decided to break taboos and meet up in the real world after being married in the game for like half a year now.

                _It really feels like I’ve met you before._

 _Yes, I know. In another place, maybe another life_. _I feel it, too._

...

                They paired up together in the next quest. Turned out that Fel was a chemist in real life and that’s why she figured out the schematics of all the potions early. The bossy lady ordered them both a much needed quest to level up and she chose a dungeon twice her ranking.

                “You’re with me, don’t worry” And to that, she smiled and shook the potions on her waist, pushed her hand through her violet hair and walked inside the cave. She’d only been playing for two weeks, she said. No wonder she was levelling up fast. Even Rem wasn’t this foolhardy when she started out. But, man, can Fel really carry herself.

                Remedios had the decency not to shout when the dragon they were hunting fell in just ten potions Fel threw at it. Rem didn’t even have the time to slash at the thing when it fell to her feet.

                “Good yeah? Let’s loot”

                “Are you sure you’re not a game master and just trolling me?”

                “What took you this long to ask?” Fel was laughing and it sounded a bit like fairy tinkles. It was so unfair that Remedios’ heart clenched. Her character was too pretty.

                “Nope I’m not. But my avatar’s been tailor-fitted for me. The game’s been made by my dad. No, I did not get any perks, my character just looks distinct. I bitched about the hair choices.” Why was she telling her that? She could abuse this knowledge and out her to the—

                “I trust you”

                “That’s a horrible decision. Terrible, really”

                “No, I feel good about you” Her smile made Remedios’ brain shut up. If she looked anywhere near her avatar, it would be totally unfair.

...

                What would happen if she had been lying? What if <Fel> was really a dude? What if she smelled horrible? Had terrible table manners?

                Remedios’ brain was supplying her with enough ammunition that there wasn’t any room in her head when she was blown away by a woman who just walked in. Pretty couldn’t even cover the way her eyebrows crunched up, probably looking for someone and looking very good while she’s at it. The sunlight struck her cheeks and eyes that made them look like melted honey. Her skin glowed. A goddess among us, her brain whispered.

The woman was wearing a yellow sundress with sunflowers printed at the bottom, the exact same thing Fel told her she would wear.

_Oh, hell._

...

                “Rem! Rem! Please open your eyes! Drink this, drink this please!”

                Why was Fel crying? Who did this to her? She was blurring a bit, her beautiful violet hair disorganized as she cradled Remedios’ broken body. She had blood on her chin. They’ve been ambushed on the way back from a particularly hard mission and they didn’t have enough energy nor items to fight back. It wasn’t illegal to kill anyone in-game, but even though it’s looked down upon, there were some who delighted in the thought that death here hurt about a quarter like death in real life. She would have to start over.

                The gaping wound on her stomach demanded attention, but their soon-to-be killers were closing in.

                “Fel, run” The blood that went up to her mouth tasted like rust. So this is how it feels, to be murdered.

                “No, i’m not leaving you here”  

                “Run, they won’t come after you. I’m carrying all our stuff. Please”

                “No, shut up and drink this”

                “Fel, you were saving that for your—yourself. You said you can only make it once—“

                “Shut up, Rem. Shut up please. I can’t lose you—not yet. I don’t even know your name—“

                “It’s Remedios. It’s Remedios Nable-Jose. And I’ll find you. Even if I start over again I’ll find you” Fel was crying. It was too much really, the pain. She couldn’t think straight. But she knew whoever was making Fel feel like this would pay. She would make sure of this.

                A spear went through Fel’s chest.

                Remedios screamed.

                “You—you know I really didn’t ever wanna do this”

                “Fel! Fel! Take your potion, I can’t—‘

                “I love you, Rem. I’m not going to lose you here”

                “Fel, stop talking and take your—“

                “Activate administrator rights, access code: Felicidad Aguinaldo”

...

                They were sitting on their tree house, built a couple months ago after they had enough and after they talked about who they really were in the real world. Felicidad was a chemist for the pharmaceutical branch as a researcher for their wide umbrella company under the name of Aguinaldo. The gaming branch was started by his brother, under the management of his husband.

                _If there’s anything he’s good at, it’s just making games. Fortunately his husband has enough brain power to actually lead a company_ and _reign him in_ , Felicidad said.

                She was sipping tea, quietly listening to her talk about some accident that happened in their lab when suddenly, Fel stopped.

                “Rem”

                “Hm?” She sipped.

                “I think I like you” Remedios blushed to highes heaven. Of course, she has liked Felicidad for a few months now, and she was figuring out how to tell her!

                “What?”

                “Like, like you. Like in a romantic way”

                “You can’t do that!”

                “Do what? Like you? Why?”

                “No! Say it before me! I liked you two months ago already! But you just figured out that right now and you tell me—“ Felicidad shut her up with a kiss. Their first kiss. Rem’s wings fluttered. Her heart fell to the forest floor twenty feet down.

...

                “Are you my wife?”

                “W—what?”

                “You look like your character, did you just input your own face because you were lazy like I did?” She looked like her avatar. The world is unfair.

                “It’s unfair that you’re as beautiful in real life”, she said. Felicidad blushed to highest heaven.

                “Hello, I’m Rem”


	5. Chicken (Grecinto)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goyong. Ilyong. A waterfall. Nothing can go wrong.

                Ilyong wasn’t stupid. He knew what the rest of them were thinking, doing. Right now. Everyone had plans to go swimming tonight, with the river waters freezing and the death drop  waterfall that lasted about twenty feet looking like a white cliff in the moonlight. They exchanged looks as they said, “ _Tonight, Ilyong. We’ll all go. Get your stuff ready”_

                He knows why they were gone, why they were snickering behind their back as Julian said, _“make a move now, bro”_ under his breath, thinking he couldn’t hear in the next tent.

                And there he was, glowing in the moonlight. Goyo in all his tanned glory, sitting by the rocks—pretending to be thinking as he glanced at Ilyong from what he thinks is the corner of his eye. I know you Goyo, I know everything about you.

What he doesn’t know is why he’s still here. Alone with the asshole himself with too many notches in his belt, who from the moment they were born were in two distinct opposite pages of history. Their families wouldn’t even approve of this outing between the Mabinis and the Rizals if they hadn’t sneaked out. But the children on both sides wouldn’t stop their eternal pissing contest with each other as they threatened cowardice on the other if they didn’t go. Which still does not explain why the golden boys of both were alone in the dark in the too cold water in only their shorts and their stupidity.

                “Nice of you to come, Emilio”

                “Where’re your brother and Vicente?” 

                “Where’s Sakay and the others?”

                “It seems we have been played”

                “You already knew that” Goyo’s eyes sparkled with taunting. They could never stand each other.

                “Why are you here then, you knew too”

                “I wanted to be with you”

                “Fuck you, asshole”

                “Oh, I wish” And then he winked. Thank goodness it was dark, because hell if he couldn’t explain why he was blushing. Fuck it all to hell. Why was he here?

                Ilyong tried to ignore him as his brain told him to test the water with his foot, but Goyo was watching, so he dived right in—trying to stop himself from shivering as he resurfaced. The water from the river stretch above the waterfall was forceful and tried to drag him, but he planted his feet on the rough rocks below and swam a little bit closer to the edge. Which brought him all the more closer to Goyo.

                “Cold isn’t it?”

                “I’ll get used to it”

                “Yeah, like I got used to you” Why was Goyong smiling in that way that he does whenever he one-ups Ilyong?

                “Ya just gonna ignore me all night? It’s just the two of us here, Emilio”

                “I wanted to go for a swim, you just happened to be here”

                “But you’re not alone”

                “Neither are you”

                “That’s so sweet” The cold. It was why he was blushing. _That doesn’t make sense, Ilyong. You’re a med student._

                “I just stated a fact”

                Goyo wasn’t looking at him now. His eyes were far away, to the edge of the water as it plummeted down. The moon was too bright tonight, he could see the silver reflecting in Goyo’s eyes as he made the decision. Taunted him for it.

                “I bet you wouldn’t jump with me” There was that smile again. _It’s not like there’re rocks beneath that could probably kill us, or the fall could break our backs, or our necks._ Of course Ilyong has made up his mind.

                “I bet you wouldn’t”

                And they rushed to get out of the water and ran to the edge of the waterfall. From up here, it looks like the bottom was miles away. _Water feels like solid concrete if you fall from high enough._

                Goyo was looking at him again. Ilyong was surprised, he tried to not look like it but Goyo was afraid. _Finally, I have something against you other than how I feel._

                “Afraid of heights?”, he said.

                “Afraid of the fall”, and then Goyo looked down at the water below. It was as dark as his eyes.

                “You want me to hold your hand?” Ilyong said it as haughtily as he could, but in his chest, something was clenching.

                “You know what, that would be great” And then Goyo took his hand, squeezed it weakly, gently. His hands were cold from the water. He was shaking.

                “Hey, let—“ And then Goyo dragged them down.

                Ilyong couldn’t help it, he screamed.

                They fell for ages. Or it felt like that because he was looking at Goyo’s eyes. He was smiling in a different way, way too soft around the edges of his mouth that Ilyong couldn’t help but stare. He looked too much like that young boy who got punched in the chin for daring to stand up to the skinny but mouthy Ilyong when he got teased—back when they were too young to know that they were supposed to hate each other. He looked away.

                He was still holding Goyo’s hand.             

                The water got into everywhere. They fell awkwardly. It hurt on all sides. _Where are the bubbles going, Ilyong?_ Oh, there. He swam up to the surface and took too many gasps of air. He laughed. They should do that again.

                _Goyong?_

                Where was that idiot? Did he already swim up to the rocks?

                “Goyong?” No answer. Where did he go?

                Ilyong thought for a few moments that Goyong was playing him, but after a while fear crept up to his spine as he thought of the possibilities. He wasn’t looking when they fell. He treaded water, went back to where he remembers they were.

                “Goyong!”

                He dived.

                He couldn’t see that much, there were growing plants on the bottom. He panicked, went up to the surface. He dived again. And again.

                And there he was, his white shorts the only thing Ilyong saw in the darkness. He dived and dragged Goyo up by the hand.

                “Goyong, Goyong!” He wasn’t breathing.

                Swimming to the rocks with another person in tow was hard enough as it is. Thank goodness he knew water rescue and Goyong was out. If he had been struggling, he would have had to knock him out.

                The rocks felt like miles away but the adrenaline rush made it flash by. Ilyong’s head was too slow and too fast at once. He was going through the textbook as he dragged Goyong’s unmoving body to the rocks. He tapped Goyong’s shoulders again, called out—he had a pulse, _thank God,_ but he still wasn’t responding. He set Goyong as straight on his back as he could, then knelt over his shoulders. He put his hands over each other, laced them, and then started on the compressions.

                Goyong still wasn’t breathing. He had to give rescue breaths.

                The back of his mind whispered but he shut it up. Goyong needed to breathe.

                He had been doing about three cycles, when Goyong flailed and coughed up water. His eyes were unfocused, panicking. Ilyong had to hold him by the shoulders and called him by his name.

                “I thought I was dead! Emilio I thought I was dead!” And then he was crushed into Goyong’s solid chest.

                “Emilio I thought I was dead” He was crying.

                “You didn’t. You’re not” They stayed like that until Goyong calmed down.

                “Thank you” It was said too softly, just by his ear. Goyong wouldn’t let him go. Then Goyong held him tighter.

                “You saved my life”

                “It’s my job, isn’t it?”     

                “Did you kiss me?”

                “What?” He tried to pull away, but Goyo wouldn’t let go.

                “You know about equality and whatnot?”

                “What--?”

                “Can I have my kiss back?”

                “Fuck are you—“

                Goyong’s lips hovered over his. He smelled like the river and his breaths were warm—and because Ilyong never backed down from a challenge—

                Goyong’s lips were too soft. He tasted like the moon, probably also the stars. Goyong’s hand went up to his neck, his tangled in his hair. This felt exactly like falling from a waterfall.

                After a while, with a need to breathe, they broke apart. Goyo’s eyes shined in the moonlight. He was smiling in that gentle way again.

                “I told you so!”, a voice from far away. It was Julian. Hoots followed.

                “Finally!”, Sakay.

                “Fuck you all!” Goyong said. Then went back for more.

Why would Ilyong resist him?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just how many reylo tidbits can i sneak into this?


	6. Drooling (Mabinaldo; angst)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mabini is fading away. Miong won't let him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's angst now, because I apparently can't stop myself

                The sunlight came through the windows in a golden glow. The blue of the curtains parten in a sliver of light that came through to illuminate the hand that was grasping his leg. Pole woke up with a crick on his upper back. Miong was snoring softly, his small intakes of air warm against Pole’s hand on his lap. Miong fell asleep after too many bottles of wine, a few cans of beer, and something he found at the back of his cupboard that was way too hard for someone with his tolerance.

                Pole laughed softly at their reversed situation. It was usually him who was out of it, sick with the alcohol that Miong had to carry him multiple times to the restroom.

_“Your doctor said—“_

_“I don’t care Miong. It’s the only thing that helps me even feel like I can breathe. Please, Miong. Give me the bottle”_  

                Miong was curled over his lap, and he noticed a circle of wetness on his leg that was unmistakeable. Miong was drooling in his sleep. Snoring quite a bit too. The last few months have put a strain on their marriage. Pole was always irritated, angry—he was the calm one, the one who brought Miong down because his patience is as good as his alcohol tolerance. Last night, Miong one of the biggest fits he has ever seen. They were both frustrated, but he wasn’t the one who had weeks to live.

                _I can’t lose him, please. Can’t you do anything? I’m ready to pay, anything!_

_I’m really sorry._

So Miong brought him home, set him on the bed, and proceeded to drink the entirety of Mabini’s alcohol stock. And then, a few hours after midnight and several broken glass bottles later, he crawled back on the bed—on his lap--and proceeded to cry. Pole had to set aside the book he was reading, the last on his bucket list, and cradle Miong’s head.

                “Pole, please stay with me. I can’t lose you. Not again. Not like this, please”

                “Darling we knew this for a long time now” He started to stroke Miong’s hair. The tears in his eyes wouldn’t stop. Pole’s heart clenched.

                “You know I’ll never leave you, right? I’ll be with you wherever you are. I’m in here” And he touched his chest, right over where Miong’s heart rested. It was beating too fast. Miong cried out, clenched his pants, curled closer to him. Pole probably started crying back then.

                “I love you”

                “Don’t say that”

                “Why? I love you”

                “Please stop. Stop saying it like it’s the last time”

                “It could be, Miong. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you while I’m still me. I’ll be incoherent soon”

                “Stop talking. Please. Let me have you for tonight. Just you. Let me forget? Please?”

                And they made love. Like it was the last time. They were both crying by the end. Miong fell asleep on his stomach, lying there, clutching his skin. They fell asleep with the tears. Pole wondered if it was his last night, he would die happy.

                “Miong. _Mahal_ , wake up”

                “P-pole?” His eyes were unfocused, but when they found him, tears started pooling in his eyes.

                _He thought he lost me last night, when he was down._ I know he wants to send me away happy, like he was acting the past month. But thank goodness I saw through that last night.

                “It’s okay to cry, _mahal._ Through all this shit, you’re allowed”

                “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for last night”

                “You love me, Miong. It’s alright to be afraid”

                “It sucks that it has to be you who’s comforting you right now. I have to be b—better, for you”

                “Miong, you don’t have to act like your fine for me. We’re in this together, right? Show me how you feel”

                “I don’t want to burden you”

                “You will never burden me. I want to go knowing you love me, you do right?”

                “You really have to ask? I loved you the moment I laid my eyes on you”

                “Tell me again”

                “What?”

                “Tell me the story again”

                “You were so far away, but I was waiting for you by the door. You were my favorite author, so you commissioning a painting for your cover was the best day of my life. You were so courteous in your messages, and I think I loved you even then. And then I saw you, and it was, it was like I finally did something good because God let me meet you”

                “So dramatic” He just woke up. But his medicines are making him drowsy again. But Miong was telling him _the_ _story_ again. Sleep can wait.

                “Yes, it comes with the art. You are too. Anyway, you always contacted me through e-mail, so I haven’t really heard your voice yet. But when I heard it—Well let’s just say my thoughts aren’t for the children to hear”

                “You bastard”

                “I swore to myself I had to make you scream one way or the other”

                “Tell it right!”

                “I am! I couldn’t tell you when we were dating because you seemed averse to those things”

                “Oh, did I?” Thank goodness they’ve figured out each other since then. Pole leaned down and kissed him soundly. Miong should’ve tasted horrible, but the wine in his breath just enhanced the taste. It lasted longer than he intended. Well, longer, since it was a few hours after they were exhausted that they started talking again.

                “What did you really thing when you read my draft? Your eyebrows scrunched up. You were confused. I was watching you”

                “I didn’t think you had it in you to write _romance_. It made me really confused because you _were_ watching me. I loved you, remember? I had to look up at you frequently to make sure I wasn’t embarrassing myself”

                 “You didn’t. Your eyes were so expressive. I love watching you when you read”

                They talked about everything and anything. Secrets that they kept from each other, like Pole really hated Miong’s chicken soup but loves everything else that he cooks. Or that Pole had to learn to constantly adjust to Miong’s loud snoring, and his need to constantly touch him. They bared everything else they haven’t told each other in the twenty-five long years that they’ve been married.

                He probably fell asleep while they were talking.

...

                Miong lost his voice trying to shake him awake

...

                Miong woke up in his lap. He was crying again.

                “You’re a dream aren’t you” He stroked his head.

                “I love you”


	7. Exhausted (Mabinaldo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> angst and fluff and mabinaldo with a dash of butler/master au

                For the first time in his twenty-five years, the perfect young master Emilio had thrown a fit in front of his servants. It was quite a surprising affair, since it was after his dinner with his mother—who visited after who knows how long—that he slammed the door to the manor and stomped his way into his room. They were all stupefied at his actions, since the young master had been looking forward to seeing the mother that he missed, and they were all expecting him to have his mood up by the time he got home.

                But no, he didn’t even greet Pole when he entered—which he _always_ does.

                The young master might want his space, but Pole knows what he needs. So he brought out his favorite jasmine tea and placed it on the tray with some milk. He placed everything on his lap and wheeled his way to Miong’s bedroom, which he had transferred on the first floor ever since Pole’s been in a wheelchair. He also had Pole’s room adjacent to his. _So that he can serve me more efficiently_ , he told the head maid.

                Pole had heard a fascinating thing from the servant’s quarters a few weeks ago

_It’s very inappropriate don’t you think? That the young master—_

_They grew up together, and I think the only ones who don’t know are them_

_Shush. You don’t know how that butler has ears everywhere!_

                He coughed and made his way in. Dinner shan’t be late.

                He knocked softly on the door, and repeated it when he had no answer.

                “Miong?”

                “Please go away, Pole. I can’t right now”

                “I brought jasmine tea and milk. It’s cooling. Open the door, young master” Miong hated it when he called him that, but they are what they are.

                “Please?” He sounded so close. He was speaking through the door.

                “Miong” A sound, like Miong was sliding down and leaning his back on the wood. He frequently does that, after he sneaks in Pole through the doors between their rooms and they have their late night talks. Everyone knows that Pole was kept, even after his illness overtook him, because the Lady of the house valued his brains. He was Miong’s right hand, helping the young master through the labyrinth that was their family and the small circles that they revolved in. But the Lady’s letters to Pole had been getting scarcer, and he was suspecting that she was put off by something—something that was dangerous to Pole’s standing as the Lady only keeps things that have _value_. He was worrying that maybe his had run out.

                “Can we just talk through the door? I can’t look at your face” Fuck. Why did that hurt?

                “Why? Are you ill, Miong? I’ll get someon—“

                “No. I’m just—“

                “Tired. You are allowed, young master. Even _you_ have to rest sometime. And I have seen you dead tired before. It wouldn’t faze me to see your face and its current imperfections”

                “Nothing would faze you, Pole” Miong chuckled. Pole could just imagine his eyes crinkling at the corners, but still devastated. His shoulders would be drooping, his arm on his knee as he rested his head on the door to hear him a bit better. The little sigh at the end confirmed it. Pole had an inkling what Miong was told in this rare visit from up above. Usually, the young master was given free reign over his life. He had chosen not the royal university so he could join Pole. He had stayed in this country instead of following his Lady mother to the country where his barren uncle reigns as King. He was even given this estate because he didn’t like the lakeside and loved the sea. But it seems that his freedom had run out, he was heir after all.

                “True. Why don’t you open the door?”

                “You’re getting bossy. Aren’t you my butler?”

                “Yes. And isn’t your well-being my top priority?”

                “Ah” Why was he sighing again?

                Time to change tactics.

                “Miong, you’ve been out of the manor for two weeks to see your mother, after she explicitly said that I was not to come. And now you are ignoring me. Am I not allowed to miss you? Young master?”

                “Fuck it, you’re good” Miong sighed again, but he could hear him get up and opening the door. It seems that he has barricaded it in the last twenty minutes that Pole was gone to prepare tea.

                “I taught you all you know”

                “You did”

                And there he was. In the moonlight shining from his grand windows, seeping through the curtains. His hair was mussed and his shirt had three buttons undone, his vest was gone and this was the most unkempt he had ever seen Miong. He looked very..

                Handsome.

                Pole had the unbearable urge to run his hands through Miong’s hair. He stopped himself. He was holding a tray and that would be inappropriate.

                “Tea?”

                “Please” Miong smiled, just a bit. A smile that said that they knew everything about each other, and that he knew that whatever secret he was harboring would soon be out of his mouth, or his eyes. Miong could never lie to him. Well, lie effectively.

                He helped him inside, shut the door and placed him way too close to the side of his bed before he sat. He took the tray in his hands and placed it on the bedside table.

                Miong gently positioned his wheelchair so they faced each other. Through the elevation of the bed, they were eye to eye with each other. Miong’s eyes were so very sad.

                “What happened?”, he asked in the gentlest way he could.

                “You did”

                “What?”

                “Tea first, please. Pole?”

                “Alright” So he poured them two glasses. And Miong let him pour more milk in his own glass because that’s how Pole likes his tea and of course he could have his milk. All the milk in the world, if Miong could.  They sipped.

                “Are you alright?”

                “No. I don’t think I am” Miong bit his lip, then looked down at his knees.

                “Will you tell me?”

                “I’m working up to it. You know I can’t keep anything from you. You’re psychic” They smile.

                “Like your mother says” Miong’s eyes took on a hard edge.

                “Yes, like my mother says”

                Pole knew. Knew it from the deepest chasm in his heart. Well, this was it for him, he guessed. He could never watch Miong love someone else, but if he asks. If he asks, he would stay. Pole  would stay as his vanguard for the rest of his life if he just _asks._

                “Why are you crying?”

                “Huh?” Oh. So he was? He wiped the single tear from his eye, and looked away. This was very unprofessional.

                “I’m sorry, young master”

                “Please don’t call me that. Not tonight, please”

                “But you are”

                “I don’t want to be”

                “But you are” Pole caught the tea and saucer before Miong’s hands let them go. He set their cups back. And then Miong was on the floor, resting his head on Pole’s knees—crying his heart out.

                “I can’t lose you”

                “You won’t. Ask me”

                “Please? Stay with me, please?”

                “I will”

                “My mother—“

                “Is a hag”

                “Pole!”

                “I know she has ears everywhere. But you are not her servant, Miong. I am. You have no master beyond yourself. She can’t make you do anything you don’t want”

                “There are things beyond my control”

                “Are there?”

                They were silent for a long time. Pole stroked his head as he Miong cried and made his decisions. This was the closest they’ve ever been.

                Miong took his hands in his and sat on the bed once more. His eyes were shining, but resolute.

                “Pole”, his eyes were burning hot, “I would burn the world for you”

                Those were not the words he had been expecting. Nor was the press of his lips on his. Soft, like that summer’s day when he fell on his knees for the first time and they were beside the river. Miong caught him and held him when he cried.

                _“I won’t be able to serve you as an invalid! Can’t you see!”_ Miong had wiped his tears away.

                _“Stay with me”_ And so he did.

                “Please don’t burn the world for me” He said when he could breathe again.

                “Is that really the first thing you’re going to say after our first kiss?”

                “You love me. I know”

                “How did—“

                “Because I love you too”

                “Well that lifts a lot of weight from my shoulders—“ And he was crying again. Pole kissed his tears away

                “We can make it” Pole said, as he was patting Miong’s head onto his shoulders.

                “Do you want to run away with me?”

                “No” Miong wasn’t surprised. He knew that whatever at whatever Pole was playing, he had already won. But he had to also play his pieces right.

                “Together we will build an empire”


	8. Star (Mabinaldo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pole falls from the sky

                Miong was out stretching from the balcony of his apartment when he almost had a heart attack. A person was lying, curled in on themselves, just by his cacti. Someone who was wearing a really impressive costume, a sparkly shirt which looked like it was like it was made in sunlight, black pants as dark as the night sky, and softly luminescent wings that changed in color where the morning light struck it. In short, this was very weird thief—if he was. Miong silently crept inside, got the bat he kept behind a lamp, and went back outside.

                He approached the man. _Was he breathing? Oh, yes he was. Softly._

                He was beautiful.

                Miong’s brain fizzled a little bit before it restarted. This man could’ve meant him harm. He gripped the bat tighter, but it was hard to be scared of the man when he was dressed like this and sleeping like a prince of light.

                “Hello, are you okay?”, he shook the man by the shoulder. Miong’s eyes widened when the wings _fluttered._ Was this a very elaborate prank? Felicidad?

                The man groaned, and put his arms over his eyes— _five more minutes?_

                “Hey”

                “Wha—Who are you? What? Why am I here—ow” The man cycled from surprise, confusion, and then terrible pain.

                “I can’t—I can’t feel my wings” Oh. Okay. What was going on?

                “I think you’re a bit confused”

                “I am! Why am I here? I was—What happened?”

                “I don’t know, I found you here” And because he didn’t know what else to do, Miong felt his doubt fade away and offered, “do you want to go inside?”

                “Can I please have some water?” He helped the man up, he was shaking from, well everywhere.

                “Are you sure you can walk?”

                “I don’t know, I haven’t tried to do it before” _Okay?_

                But they went through it together. The man found his legs a bit after a few steps, though his knees were still shaking.

                “I’m Miong” He led him to a seat by his counter. The man’s eyes kept roving around, like he was fascinated by everthing except the lamps that hung from the ceiling. But, he was very insistent upon his staring of Miong, like he was something new to understand. Miong felt the same way about buildings.

                “Oh” The man kept staring as he handed him the water. His hands were small and shapely, and Miong felt a blush in his cheeks. Was he a _hand_ guy? Well, this man was everything he ever dreamed about, but that’s beside the point.

                “Your name?”

                “Your people call me Polaris? But I’m Apolinario. You can call me Pole. Or whatever you want, human”   Miong’s usually fast keep-up was not keeping up. Okay. Well, there’s this beautiful man looked like he was from a fairytale, who was he to doubt him?

                “I know this sounds a bit strange, but someone knocked me off the sky and I need to go back. I am the North Star. Who knows how many will be lost without me? You, human, you must guide me on my way back”

                “Wait, Pole don’t you think—“

                “I have decided to give you a wish”

                “A wish? Don’t you think getting back to the sky only accounts to _a wish?_ I need a better deal than that, Pole”

                “You are very presumptuous for a human. Alright, _two_ wishes. That is my final offer” And then Pole shoved the glass forward, clutching it with two hands. More? He had already drunk five glasses?

                “Are you alright?” Miong finally noticed Pole’s eyes. At first they looked like the ocean at night, but the more he stared, the more he realized that it was the ocean, with the moon reflecting in the gentle waves. Magic. Fate.

                “I can’t feel my wings. I feel heavy. Human... what do I do?” Pole started shaking and then he gently let go of the glass and covered his face. Then, he started sobbing. Miong’s heart was being squeezed. He didn’t know what to do.

                “Hey, it’ll be alright” He had walked around the counter to pat Pole on the back, but the star prince had grabbed him and crashed into his chest. His heart started to pound. His knees were awkwardly bent, their arms around each other, Pole’s head on the crook of his neck, wetting his shoulder with his tears.

                “I need to go home”

                “Don’t worry, I’ll help you”

                “Do you promise?”

                “If I promise on you, would you accept it?” Pole lifted his face, and his eyes shone with tears. He saw storm clouds, but also a meadow of flowers.

                “Do you mean it with your heart?”

                “Yes. I’ll help you”

                “Thank you”

...

                Pole had childlike wonder about _everything_. He said he had watched the Earth for a million years but had never touched anything before. He was especially fascinated by Miong, who he asked all about before he had fallen asleep on the couch, his wings drooping. It had been a few days after Pole had crashed, and he had already rearranged the couch to form his little fort. It feels different, he says, without the light winds of his brothers and sisters, without the song of the void to lull him to sleep, and everything in here feels so _close_. Everything he could, he touched, he smelled, sometimes he even tasted. He had already licked Miong’s hand twice.

                But one night when he saw Miong’s bed, he left his nest and transferred everything he had tucked into the sheets he had stolen on top of where Miong usually slept. He tackled Miong to the bed.

                “What are you doing?”

                “Oh, I have claimed this nest as mine”

                “What? This is my bed”

                “No? Is this not how things are done in your world? I’m sorry I can’t quite hear from where I usually am in the sky. Have I not risen above you? Bested you in combat? You humans confuse us. You have so much yet so little”

                “Well sorry we haven’t got the entire sky as ours” Pole sat up, directly on his stomach. He was quite light for someone as tall as him. His eyes darkened like the edge of a cave untouched by light.

                “Space is very lonely” His voice was very quiet, like he was telling Miong his greatest secret.

                “Were you lonely?” Pole was lost in thought.

                “It’s very silent. And cold. I watch you because I felt like I was fading. You, so far to touch, to hear. Now, everything is so _close_ ” The last part was a whisper, lost to the summer air.

                Pole got up, and then the light was back in his eyes. Supernovas and auroras. He smiled.

                “Pole?”

                “Can’t we just sleep here together? You have a very nice view of the ocean. I can see almost everything from here. Look, my family!” he gestured to the sprawling ocean, and the starlight on the water.

                “They look so beautiful from down here”

                Miong thought he had been dreaming this entire week until the news relayed to him that Polaris wasn’t visible from any of the instruments they use to observe it. Some postulated that something was blocking the star, but Miong knows. The man was currently sniffing all the plants hanging from his balcony.

                “They smell beautiful” Pole smiled at him. He saw the stars blinking from his outline. Pole was radiant.

                Miong felt like he was falling from a cliff.

...

                Pole had discovered the TV, and he hadn’t turned it off since. It was good because Pole got quite mopey whenever he left for work, but the TV distracts him long enough that he almost doesn’t notice Miong slip away and return. Miong’s electricity bill has surely skyrocketed.

He also couldn’t turn the lights off at night because the dark reminded Pole of such loneliness.

                They haven’t made any progress on how to get Pole back to the sky, possibly because none of the stars that Pole has known have ever made it back. Pole cried again when he remembered that. Pole had so much history in his head that the memories sometimes hurt him. He remembers every discovery, every triumph. But also every battle and betrayal.

                “I have never felt so much in so little time. It feels like every second I spend here is a million years. I can’t breathe sometimes”

                “Well you have to take every second by the second”

                ‘What?”

                “Have you ever heard of music?”

                “Oh, the things I watch—“

                “Do you know what a violin is?”

                “Of course, I remember when it was invented” Pole’s eyebrow shot up in defiance. Miong smirked at him, and then retrieved his instrument from the Pole’s pile on his half of the bed.

                He sat Miong on the couch, stood in front of him, and played.

                He lost himself in Pole’s eyes. He didn’t even notice when Pole got up and touched his chest. His wings gently fluttered in time with the music. In his eyes, the sunrise.

                “It feels like starlight. Your heart beats like a solar flare” A single tear fell from Pole’s eyes, which he closed afterwards. They stood like that until Miong ran out of songs to play.

...

                Miong woke up with a crick on his neck. It felt awful, but when he glanced down, he didn’t dare move. Pole was curled around him, with his sheets left behind on his side of the bed. He didn’t have the heart to kick him out back to the couch because he was so warm. Miong usually had several sheets to cover his cold feet but ever since Pole arrived, he stopped needing them. Pole was like a gentle fire place that slept beside him. His warmth was so comforting that he almost missed it.

                Pole was talking in his sleep.

                There was a whole bit about some soap opera he was watching. He commented a lot how slow cacti grow. And then,

                “You sound so beautiful, Miong. Please play again” He sighed.

                “Thank you” It was a drawled out whisper.

“I miss—“ And then he was silent.

                Miong’s heart dropped out from his chest. He didn’t know why he cried himself slowly to sleep that night, but by the morning he knew.

...

                Miong tried to act the same when he woke up. Pole had already started on breakfast, cooking from memory of a thousand cultures. Nothing could tear him away from the kitchen for a week after he discovered how the stove worked. Miong smiled at him in the same way, and then he disappeared to the bathroom. He hoped that the water cleared enough of his tears and his eyes don’t show how he was bleeding on the inside.

                It was too easy to get used to Pole’s presence. It was easy for him to learn, to understand. After a few mistakes, he had already carved a place in the household, he could even go outside by himself to get some groceries (given that he hid his wings under his shirt). A few months after he fell, with no progress on how to go back, Miong asked.

                “Can’t I wish you home?” The spatula slipped a bit in his hands. Pole was quiet, then he bit his lip, looked down before he looked at Miong with shining eyes. Nothing in them.

                “No. You can’t. They’ve tried before”

                “I’m sorry”

                “Don’t be”

...

                They went out to walk by the shore. Pole held out his hand and led him to the water. Pole loved everything, but nothing more than the ocean—since it was the sky but warmer. Miong tried to stop himself from holding Pole’s hand too tightly.

                Pole was very fascinated by sand.

                “They feel like a hug, from my brothers and sisters. This is how we feel like to each other. It’s the same warmth, but softer” Miong clenched his fist for the rest of the time that they walked.

                It was not in his place to make Pole stay.

...

                Pole was cradling his face when he woke up. The sunlight glowed golden behind him, through the flowers on the white curtains and dancing on Pole’s face.

                “Miong? Why are you crying?”

                “Because you feel like home”

                “Miong?”

                “I’ve never felt like I was home before” Pole’s eyes showed a soft pattering of rain, a child on the run. Knowhere to go. A teen, still running, never quite getting far away from home. Where will he go? Who was he but an Aguinaldo? Miong, isolating himself by the ocean, running away from the weight of his family, of his duties.

                “I know. It’s okay Miong, you can cry. God knows I do it so much in front of you”             

                “Is this what love is like?” Pole stopped. His eyes, waves crashing on the shore. Soft sunrise.

                “Do you think I know enough about love to answer that question?”

                “Haven’t you seen thousands of years of it?”

                “Yes. But seeing is different from knowing” Miong’s heart clenched in the most painful way. Last night was proof enough. He couldn’t tell Pole what he felt. He has to go home.

                “Has anyone ever loved you before?”

                “A lot of you love stars” Pole stopped caressing his cheek. He moved on to his forehead, and he wiped the tears from Miong’s eyes.

                “I know how passion can ruin cities, how obsession can burn down civilizations. I know how humans do everything for the things they hold dear, but I have seen enough of love to know that it’s not that. Love is freeing, it is given without shackles. Love is coming home”

                “Which you have to do. I’m sorry” Miong tried to turn his face away, because he couldn’t look at Pole. His eyes had started to turn into glittering jewels, rubies shining beneath the earth.

                “Home is you” Pole raised his chin. His wings glowed in the golden morning. They were perfectly fine.

                “Home is you” He repeated, then got close enough to his forehead to drop the softest kiss.


	9. Precious (Felidios)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicidad has a crush on Darna.

                Today was the day. Felicidad was getting the shot.

                She would be on the cover. Felicidad Aguinaldo, established photographer—not because of her family name but because she crawled her way up.

                She will get that flight shot of _Darna_.

                Darna had just been downtown, her source says. She was fighting petty criminals and were putting them away to jail. Now, she flies home. _South_. And Felicidad had the perfect vantage point on top of her apartment building. Pretty dangerous, but _eh_ , comes with the job. Sure, she’s covered conflicts and political events but apparently the only thing that matters in this country was Darna.

                Who has never been photographed in flight before.

                Felicidad was already posied when she saw a twinkle in the corner of her eye.

                There. By the side of the road.

 _Darna,_ preparing for take-off, waving at the crowd. Her crown glistened in the sunset, rubies shining red. Her white loincloth was torn in some places. She was roughed up in some places, which really put some doubt as to her invincibility. But she was still smiling at the crowd, who were circling her but putting a respectful distance away. Or maybe they were just avoiding the pile of criminals strewn on the street.

                Was she okay?

                Felicidad put her camera up, zoomed in on Darna’s smiling face. There was a sadness there, something deep that faded away quickly. Felicidad felt her heart beat in her chest, and she clutched it. She took the picture before the look disappeared. _How hard is it, darling, to carry the world?_

                This was why all her pictures were rejected. _Always human, Felicidad. The people don’t need to remember that she’s probably human. They need hope, they need her invincible, unbreakable. God knows this country needs a savior._

                But Darna was just that, Darna. And to Felicidad she was not a star in the sky but a comet, revolving the planet, beautiful and transient—too attached to the gravity of the earth to leave. She glanced through her lens again, about to adjust some settings, but Darna was gone.

                “Are you planning on falling down a building again?” Felicidad blushed. It only happened twice!

                She turned. Behind her was the country’s light, framed in the beautiful oranges of the sunset. She was sitting on the rooftop’s barrier, facing away, watching the sun. Her hair flowed softly with the wind, her whole body painted in gold. Darna turned to her, smiled softly. Felicidad couldn’t look away.

                She raised her camera, which just made Darna smile just a little bit more.

                “If only they let us publish your most beautiful pictures” Felicidad’s eyes widened. Darna was blushing.

                “I don’t feel beautiful”

                “You’re not all the time. But today you are” Darna sighed. This was how they met, on the top floor of some other building, where Felicidad had spent two months waiting for that perfect shot of her fighting crime. She got the shot, got promoted to only Darna duties. Then, she fell from where she leaned too heavily and only lived because Darna was there.

                “I guess you fell for me?” Only she knew that Darna sucked at pick-up lines.

                The initial catch was more terrifying than the fall. Felicidad’s heart had been racing. Darna had been so warm, and her smile made something tingle in Felicidad’s chest.

                “Thank you for saving my life” She said that too politely, and the woman smiled her superstar smile. They ascended.

                “So this is what flying is like”, she had whispered, but Darna had super-hearing probably.

                “Terrifying?”

                “No. I—I feel like the wind. Free.” Well, Darna was carrying her. “–wait, are you afraid of heights”

She snorts when she laughs. They buckled in flight a bit. Felicidad grasped at her shoulders. Her camera almost fell from where it rested on her waist.

                “Oops, fasten your seatbelts” They laughed together. Darna’s ears had been so red.

                Everything about Darna felt familiar. Felicidad walked closer, keeping a safe distance. Darna was deep in thought as she continued to stare at the sunset over Manila Bay—she didn’t want to bother her thoughts.

                “Can I sit beside you?”

                “Just don’t fall okay?” Darna helped her up. Beneath them, almost a hundred foot drop. It didn’t scare Felicidad, but Darna’s loneliness did.   

                “You can fly away, you know. You’re strong but it’s not your job to save _everyone_ ” Don’t we all say that to ourselves for comfort?

                “Isn’t it?”

                “You can rest too, you know”

                “It feels like slacking off”

                “You’re not! You’ve been saving people left and right! And you had a really bad week after joining that protest. It’s okay, I love you for that. But people have to stop treating you either like an actress or a saint” The people love shackling their idols. Yes, they were worshipped and put in pedestals, but then they couldn’t have thoughts besides the ones they want to put in their mouths.

                “I don’t feel like myself anymore”

                “I know you probably have a life outside of—all this, and it’s alright. You’re not hiding if you take a break for a while. You’re a private citizen just helping out, darling. Sometimes the people just have to save themselves. Sometimes you have to save you” And then, Darna cried.

                She clutched Felicidad’s shoulders. Fel hugged her tightly while she cried.

                “I’m so tired” She hugged Darna tighter.

                “I’m here”

                “Thank you”

...

                After that, nobody knew how, but Felicidad always has the perfect shot of Darna for some reason.

...

                Remedios was feeling like changing the movie, but Feli’s chest was too comfy. After a lot of complaining, they watched a romcom about a journalist who falls in love with some cute author. Which they are, but Feli was complaining because the journalist was some macho dude who thought being an ass made him special. And he puts down fashion photography like it doesn’t take those people all their lives to master their craft.

                “Ugh”, Felicidad said for the thousandth time.

                “Why isn’t he taking down notes? Does he think he’ll remember all that information later? Does he even have a recorder?”

                “He’s a fictional journalist, babe”

                “Well he should’ve just been a hot wall, then” Then Felicidad sighed, for like the thousandth time, “Okay, I know I’m ruining our movie date. I love you but I hate this movie’

                “That’s okay I thought it would be good too. That author girl thinks writing can be pursued while waiting to be hit by inspiration like a truck. And she likes dudes. Ew” Felicidad laughed in that beautiful way. It made Remedios quite a bit dizzy because her head was resting on her chest but the rumbles in her chest and the tinkles in her ear made up for it. Ever since Remedios heard her laugh, she swore to herself to try to keep her happy for the rest of her life.

                And to hold her hand when she’s not.

                Remedios might be feeling a little bit sappy today, but the semi light heavy thing in her chest needed saying. She lifted her head to watch Felicidad while she’s riding out the last of her laughter. Then Fel looked at her with those love-filled eyes that her heart clenched just a little bit more.

                “I love you” Felicidad’s eyes widened in shock. She had been waiting months for Remedios to say it, because she wanted Remedios to be sure, to not feel like as if their friendship has to progress to something even more just because Felicidad loved her.

                “You don’t have to say it back”

                “I want to be your girlfriend”

                “I know. But love is a commitment. I want to try loving you every day, even when you eat those crappy ramen noodles.  I want you to know that loving me may be hard sometimes, and I don’t want you to feel like you owe me just because you feel safe with me and that I love you”

                “You just can’t listen to it right now, can’t you?”

                “I want you to be sure”

                Felicidad’s eyes watered.

                “I love you” She said again.

                “I can finally say it now”

                “Say what?”

                “I love you, too”

...

                They were out, walking down the tiangge when somebody’s TV flashed an image of Darna across the screen. It was a shaky shot of Darna flying that wasn’t hers, so of course it sucked because Darna only slowed down for her. Sometimes she even stays still and let the wind fly through her hair when they were on the rooftop like in a photoshoot. Most often, her smiles were so beautiful because Felicidad was hilarious behind the camera.

                “Okay, one more shot, one more shot. Don’t pout please, darling”

“Come here and say that to me while your dangling above a hundred fifty feet”

“I knew it! You _are_ afraid of heights!”

“No! I don’t like snakes but I’m not afraid of heights!” And so Felicidad pushed her to float a little bit more away from the building. Darna screamed and clutched her shoulders.

                “You!”

                “Me!”

                “I hate you!” And then they had ice cream afterwards.

...

                Remedios stopped by some store that was selling music boxes for gift giving when they showed a picture of Darna making a silly face at the camera. Felicidad was horrified, it was _her_ shot. It was probably in her files and she must’ve sent it by mistake. Remedios looked up, saw the TV set. Felicidad prayed for her life.

                “Oh, Darna’s so cute there” She was so dead.

                Somebody screamed. Remedios did her sorry eyes and the little pout.

                “I’m sorry babe. I’ll be back soon”

                “Kiss?” Remedios pecked her just a bit.

                “Go get them darling” Remedios laughed as she ran.


	10. Cruel (Grecinto)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two sexy spies just won't admit they like each other.

                Ilyong had accounted for everything naturally. He did the calculations, the check and the re-check, he had even stopped pacing in the room back and forth while he waited for two hours before his target arrived before taking position. It was hard, but he didn’t earn his ninety-five percent kill rate sitting around. He took his place on the floor and waited.

                His target was an international arms dealer who also dipped his toes in many other illegal operations. He had recently lost his position among his peers to warrant him unusable if ever captured. He was doing them more harm than good in taking down the bigger dogs so the higher ups ordered hit on him.

                Ilyong’s family, the so called _Katipunan_ were the best at what they did. Over-all, they were the highest ranking private group that the government employs when their forces are insufficient—or when they need things to go quietly. They were also very good at quiet, everyone only knows the Katipunan for their hotels, not what goes on inside.  

                So this was why he was spending his weekend on a cruise with some of the most wanted men in the world on a quite very dangerous mission instead of his office. He was the best at what he does and Andres trusted him.

                “They’ll be after you too, Ilyong. The cruise only docks half a day after your mission target gets eliminated on the schedule. Stay down until we get you out”, Andres’ eyes had been hard. He was really worried. They would have no radio contact and Ilyong would be disappearing for quite a while. Andres treated him like a brother, sometimes even a son—and despite all the control he tried to show on his face, he was afraid.

                “Don’t worry, Andres. I’ll be fine. I’ll be back before you know it”

                His spotters contacted him. Their target was on the move.

                His radio picked up someone using his frequency.

                “You should really change this”. Fuck. Goyo. He raised his lens to the other vantage point he considered choosing. Of course. The Magdalo would never send their second best on this.

                Why would the president contact them if their own was already on the case?

                Goyo was already in position, also watching him through his lens.

                “Aw, babe, cold shoulder?”

                “Shut the fuck up, Goyo. You’re gonna mess up my shot”

                “Like you’re not messing up mine? Don’t worry, I’ll let you mess me up anytime” Thank goodness he was far away. He could feel his cheeks heat up. He would rather have a bullet through the chest than admit that Goyo affected him in any way. Curse him and his crass mouth.

                Goyo raised his face, and like he could see—which he did, winked at him.

                Ilyong’s in-ear flared to life. Their target had been shot down. He cursed and pointed his lens back down. Yep. The target was dead.  

                “Maybe you should stop flirting on official missions, children”, Garcia—honorary member of Luna’s _familia._ Usually one of their partners against their rival Magdalos.

This would not be seen as an offense against their family. It was a high-ranking criminal, so the government probably wanted to pull out all the guns. But it offended Ilyong personally, who just got his kill stolen from him.

                “Good shot, Tito. Thank you” Maybe he should really change his frequency.

                “It’s problem for us both that Ilyong is such a hard-ass, Tito. Maybe if he agreed to date me, he’ll loosen up”

                “Shut up, Goyo”

                “Now, now. I’m going to head off. Sorry for taking your shots but you sure were taking a while. Go to the bar and just kiss already”

                “You heard him, babe”

                “Shut up, Goyo”

...

                Ilyong was hiding out, packing his things when a knock sounded at the door. All of his hackles rose. All of his team were staying spread around the various rooms. They were close, but they were not to contact each other unless absolutely necessary.

                He got his gun out from his back pocket, pointed it at the door.

                “Who’s there?” The person behind the door knocked again. If it was someone sent to him, they probably would have figured out that the door was bulletproof before trying something more. But he hadn’t heard shots, nor threats.               

                Goyo.   

                He didn’t put down the gun as he opened the door. Goyo was unfazed. He had pointed this same gun at his face numerous times before.

                “Good evening. You ordered room service?” Goyo was wearing a suit, different from the one he was wearing earlier than when he was in position. Only Goyo wore ostentatious outfits to official missions instead of dressing down and blending in like Ilyong practically did.

                He raised two bottles of alcohol, one shaped like wine and the other probably something stronger.

                “You know that we have to leave this ship tomorrow right? Preferably not feeling like shit because we’re getting told off for losing our hits?” Ilyong raised one of his eyebrows. The tilt in his head and the challenge in his eyes was something Goyong had always loved. Even in the artificial lighting of the room, with bags under his eyes and quite messed up by a nap, he looked beautiful. Something in Goyo rose up to the surface in response.

                “You never listen to your elders. You hear what Tito said, right? We have to drink our problems away” Then Goyo stepped up to him, which made him step back in return. Goyo smirked before he placed the bottles on the bedside table, folded his suit jacket over a chair and sat on his bed. He folded his sleeves up to his shoulder before he poured two glasses of wine. He handed the glass to Ilyong, and he accepted and downed it in one go.

                The burn in his throat was nothing to the ones in Goyo’s eyes. He was unbuttoning the top button on his shirt.

                “Why don’t you get more comfortable, Emiliio” Ilyong’s cheeks flared up and he narrowed his eyes. A challenge, one that he was biting at without thinking—just because he hated all of Goyo’s guts.

                He took off his sweater, mussed up his hair, and looked at Goyo before sitting down on the chair in front of him and offering his glass. Goyo poured him another drink. One considerably higher than the one before. Ilyong sipped at it.

                “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be resting, too?”

                “Well, I wanted to see you” Ilyong didn’t know what to say to that, so he sipped at his glass. Goyo wouldn’t take his eyes off of him as he did so.

                “Don’t you like seeing me, Emilio? You always blush so beautifully for me” Ilyong looked away, embarrassed. What was it about Goyo that always undoes him? Well, they spent almost all their lives pitted against each other that they practically know anything to know about each other and he’s had this crush for like the longest time but he knows it will amount to nothing. There’s nothing that will tie Goyo down. He jumped from relationship to relationship, and Ilyong had always had a thing for stability.

                “I’m sorry for messing up your shot. I know you probably hate me for it, so here’s me, saying sorry. I promise I’ll give you the next one”

                “I don’t hate you for it. I just hate you” Goyo bit his lip in a very insecure way. It was probably a ploy, Ilyong could never figure him out.

                “Why, though?” Ilyong was taken aback. Goyo was looking very vulnerable sitting on his bed, with a flush to his face and his eyes sad as he stared at Ilyong.

                “Well, well because—“

                “Why do you always ignore me? Is it because you know how I feel for you? You don’t have to hate me for that you know. I won’t push because I know I don’t deserve you, don’t worry” Ilyong clutched at his glass, sat up straight and curled his forehead. What?

                “You don’t have to act surprised” First, Ilyong thought that he was playing him. Goyo had always been the one on the taunting end of this push-pull relationship, knowing that Ilyong would never back down. Goyo loved getting a rise out of him, and he was always _just there_. During their first mission together, he patched up Ilyong when he got punched in the face. He took a bullet on the leg for him, and Ilyong sported a similar one on the top of his knuckles. When he got really drunk one time, he even jokingly told Ilyong he loved him.

                “Where are you going with this, Goyo?”

                “Well, I’m telling you that I love you. Again. When I’m less drunk this time, I’m sorry for the first time I did. You just saved my life and I didn’t know how to thank you” Ilyong’s heart stopped beating for a few times, then it restarted—slowly. Ilyong held his tears. He was confused. Was he angry?

                It was impossible that Goyo didn’t know how he felt. It was painfully obvious, his friends had told him just as much. Hell, the _president_ knows.  Ilyong’s heart hurt at the thought of being one of Goyo’s conquests. He loved him far too much to be just that.

                “Don’t play with me like this, Goyo” He had to wipe a tear from his eyes. Why was he being affected like this? Maybe it’s just been a long day. He was tired. Everywhere.

                “I know you’re thinking that. I know you probably don’t believe me. And it’s okay if you don’t. It just wouldn’t sit well with me if I didn’t tell you that I jumped in front of that bullet because I couldn’t lose you. Also I will promise to stop flirting with you if you don’t hold this against me. I know I also don’t deserve it, but please don’t break my heart more than it already is” Goyong laughed darkly, bitterly.

                “I’m leaving for Hong Kong, you know. Get in line with the less grisly part of the family business. So you don’t really have to see me again after this” Goyong downed maybe a quarter by the bottle after that. Ilyong watched him.

                “Goyong, that’s enough. Don’t you think you should go back to your room”

                “Fuck, that hurts. Ah. Okay, okay. I promised you I won’t bother you after this” Goyong tried to get up, but the drinks were getting into his system and he wobbled all the way up. Ilyong caught him before he fell. Goyong started spewing nonsense, and sometimes government secrets that could get them all in trouble. But it was nice to know that President Mabini gets home-baked cookies every lunch and he only eats them with his husband.

                They walked to Goyo’s room, Ilyong half-carrying Goyong all the way. He was also trying to carry his own weight but half-failing because he was too woozy to do anything. The alcohol kicked and kicked hard. He would be regretting drinking in the morning, but not telling Ilyong how he felt before he left was like that first time they almost kissed but he didn’t because he was scared.

                “You’re so warm”

                “You’re drunk”

                “I am. And you’re beautiful. I just wish I was some other kind of man who was honorable enough to be with you”

                “None of us are honorable. But you are a good man, Goyong”

                “Oh, you’re calling me that again. I wish I remember in the morning”

                “You won’t. You never do. You don’t even remember that you kissed me”

                “What? I did?”

                “You’ll forget it again tomorrow” And because Ilyong was stupid and in love, and because this might be the last time, after he laid down Goyong he kissed his forehead. Goyong sighed. He sat beside him. Goyong curled up by his side, and clutched his middle while he was lying down. His breath was warm against Ilyong’s side.

                “You smell really good. Thank you for bringing me here. I can take care of myself now. Thank you again. I’m sorry if I just barged in and tried to get you drunk so I can get you to say ‘I love you too’ in challenge” He laughed, then closed his eyes. There were tears at each of their corners.

                “I’m really going to miss you” Ilyong couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. What if Goyo was telling the truth? But he can’t handle that kind of pain. Not again. But, what if?

_Please, just give me tonight._

                “I’m going to miss you, too. Goyong” Goyong’s breathing was starting to even out. “Let’s just say that I believe you, what would you do?”

                “I’ll do everything I can to keep you. Also, please don’t say things you don’t mean Emilio. I love you. Please” Ilyong just gave up trying.

                “Why do you always do this to me? Stop. Goyong. You know I love you. Stop it. I can’t”

                “What?”

                “You know how I feel about you. Please stop playing this game with me. I don’t care. I don’t care anymore now that you’re leaving. Don’t leave like this”

                “Like what? Emilio? You’re talking so fast. I’m confused. You—”

                “Don’t act like you’re trying to stay with me”

                “If I could, Emilio. I would. Ask me”

                “What?”

                “Ask me and I won’t leave. I would die—live for you. I’d do anything you ask” Ilyong was allowed to be selfish once in a while, right? He could forget that he had responsibilities and a life-long grudge against the man who he was currently laying out his heart, right?

                “Stay, then” Ilyong was tired of pretending.

                “Only if you do, too”

                “Fuck, we’re really doing this aren’t we?”

                “I’d like to do you. But only if you want to”

                “You’re drunk”

                “I am. And I love you” It sounded really good once Ilyong let himself listen to it. His heart started beating again. He laid down, right next to Goyong. They stared at each other.

                “I wish this wasn’t a dream” Goyong’s eyes were shining. Ilyong smiled at him softly, then he caressed his cheek. He pressed another gentle kiss on him, this time on his lips.

                “Shut up. I’m not a dream”

                “I’m so sleepy”

                “Then sleep”

                “Will you be here?” Ilyong moved to lock the door, which he told Goyong would be safer, but Goyong dragged him deeper into the bed, knocked off both their shoes, and sighed into his hair.

                “Good night, Emilio”

                “Good night, Goyong”

                “I hope you still love me in the morning” Goyong laughed a carefree laugh for the first time.

                “I will. Now sleep”                       


	11. Flowing (Jovente)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joven finds himself captured by a pirate ship. Vicente seeks him out and talks to him before disaster strikes.

                Joven felt like he could reach out and touch the sun.

                He closed his eyes, felt the wind like it was the ocean, but with gentler waves. He’s missed the warmth of the surface, the smell of the ocean instead of its taste. The clouds, the sky, the birds. Nothing compared to the sound of the wind, not drumming in his ears like the water did. He breathed it all in.

                He flicked his tail and jumped from the water, luxuriating in the slight seconds that he was free. What is it like, to be free of the weight? He fell back, and the water took him once more.

                He knows that the water is freedom, that it was sanctuary. But ever since everybody else disappeared and the last few years passed by that he hasn’t seen any of his kind, the water felt like a kind of prison. All it contains were memories and the tears of his brothers and sisters.

                He felt the shift in the waves, the slight push of the ocean that told him that something was coming. He looked up, and the sun was gone under a blanket of clouds. This was how fast the weather changed in these parts, this was why he was forbidden to even swim close to here as a child.

                But Joven was not a child any longer, and everyone else is dead.

                The sailors came closer. Joven dived.

                Joven had been cursed the moment he was born. The medicine woman was shocked, prayed the moment he was handed over to someone else. _He will doom us,_ they said. _Ivory scales, the sun on the water. He will be our death._ And they were right, maybe. It’s been so long that Joven has started to forget.

                He felt a spear go through the water just next to him. It nicked the scales on his hip, and he cried out as he saw the blood. He had to get out of here. Sharks may not particularly like humans, but they do mermen.

                It wasn’t over. He felt the weight of ropes cover him, and it dragged him down before it pulled him up.  It was rough and scratched, dislodged the tiniest scaled on his arms and neck. He tried swimming down, but it was futile. Ivory scales would be very visible on the water indeed. It had been years since he was last captured.

                He had just lost his weapons as he was swimming away from barracudas. Now he was helpless.

                _Our Dear Diwata Magwayen, you have blessed and cursed me with your touch. Help me, please._

                He wakes up on another deck, another set of faces that will haunt his nightmares. They look upon him, inside the glass tub they placed in the center so that his tail would not disappear. Mermen on land could very well pass off as human. But there are things that are not so skin deep, such as mermaid tears. They were one of the most sought out things on land, with a single drop being able to heal irreversible illnesses and wounds. And thus, the suffering of Joven’s people.

                “Do you want something to eat?” The sound was too soft on Joven’s ears. It was tentative, careful. While his claws and fangs may not have worked on the ropes, they could tear a hole in any man that tries to touch him.

                There was this little mermaid trick that humans knew nothing about. They could see emotions more clearly. Under the ocean, it was useful for survival, knowing things with just a look. Humans are even easier to read. They do not know how much they show in their faces. The man was looking at him, and there was truth in his eyes, a little apprehensiveness, a little fear. But in him Joven saw kindness. Guilt, too. But the kindness overshadowed everything else. So Joven just stares at him, wide eyed and awed.

                _You are human, how are you so kind?_

                “Um, I’m sorry for assuming but I got this for you. My name’s Vicente” And then the man shyly looks down, offering the plate of roasted fish as far as he could extend his hand just in case Joven got a little feisty. The glass tub only had a small opening where they could throw raw fish in. It was restrictive, and for someone who had the whole ocean as their home, Joven was literally boxed in. He looked away.

                “You should have let me go, instead” Vicente looked up at him, but in Joven he saw no rage, only sadness.

                “I’m sorry, I can’t”

                “Then you are a kind coward. You may now leave me to my bonds, human”

                Joven should have felt anger. He did too, the first times he got captured. But now he felt only felt despair and guilt. He knew that all these people will die soon.

                It was in their shadows, in their breaths. Magwayen held her children dear, and now they would pay. Only she who has cursed him should make him suffer. She told him herself.

                “Take a boat”, He said before he could stop himself.

                “What?” Vicente turned back around. The others were looking at them now.

                “This ship will be down before midnight. Take a boat and leave”

                “That would be—“

                “It is your choice, human”, and because people were staring, “Now leave me!”

                It was effective. In the other’s eyes they only saw the poor fool Vicente trying to win over a merman with sweet words and failing. They did not suspect that a merman might feel a little mercy at a boat he was going to sink soon.

                Joven closed his eyes, heard the thunder and the rain. It was always the same, every time. But in time he had peace with it. He _was_ a curse. That night he dreamt that the ship split in two.

                He did not wake up at the bottom of the ocean like he did all those times before. Instead, he was at some cave, dry as a bone and his legs visible under his dry scales. He screamed, and he hit his back on the rough stone wall. He was at his most vulnerable. He had to get back to the water.

                “Hey, hey calm down” Vicente looked exactly what he would have if he got tossed by a storm. His long hair had been tangled with seaweed and pieces of driftwood, his clothes torn in places.

                “Why am I here?”

                “You saved my life”

                “What?”

                “Don’t you remember?” Vague pictures, of howling winds and the masts shaking. The sail had ripped and it almost swayed Vicente overboard when the wind tried to take him with it. Joven had jumped without knowing. And now here they are.

                “I don’t remember”

                “That’s alright, I’m a bit shaken up too”

                “I guess everybody else is dead”

                “Yeah, I guess. I should be, too. But you saved me” Vicente turned away, went back to a roaring fire he must have built when Joven was out. He was very resourceful, and now they have fish for dinner.

                “You’re probably tired of me offering, but you have to eat, too” Joven was too far away from the fire, and he did not trust himself to be stable enough to walk on legs. So he pretended that he was not hungry.

                “What’s your name?” A mermaid’s name was her treasure. It is not given to anyone but her family.  “What do I call you?”

                “Ven is fine. Do not ask any more from me. Once I am strong I will get you a boat so you can leave”

                “How will you be strong if you don’t eat?” Joven stayed quiet, looked at the stars from the mouth of the cave as the waves called to him. He really should leave this human alone. But Joven was so very lonely. He had been listening to his own voice for so long that he was desperate for any conversation even a human may offer. And Vicente was so very kind.

                “I can’t stand” And then Vicente stuck the fish he was holding back near the flame and stood as carefully as he could and approached him. He woke up with no bonds, no ropes. For a man as resourceful as Vicente, he could have fashioned something to restrain him. But he didn’t.  

                “Is it okay if I carry you?” Joven has never felt naked before. He blushed, and looked down upon himself. He hugged himself tighter. The human must have noticed, because Vicente shook off his shirt and placed it over his shoulder. It smelled like seawater and brine but also of human. Some hint of jasmine, too. And deliciously roasted fish. Joven’s stomach growled.

                “See, you _are_ hungry” And then he felt arms around him, lifting him up. Vicente had a sailor’s body, and Joven blushed at himself. He remembers the stories his siblings once told of their jolly sailors in giggles and whispers. _They’re not just good for eating, you know!_

                Joven had never acquired a taste for human and other desires, but the curve of Vicente’s neck in the firelight stirred something forbidden in him. _No, I will not let you curse him through me, dear diwata. We will not be your story to tell._

                He knows that Magwayen must have been watching very closely. Him, so lonely for so long, given a kind companion to share the ocean with. And so he avoided Vicente’s eyes for however long he could as he sat down and nibbled on the fish.

                “Are you a hunter?” Joven asked, because he knew that the fates loved their irony.

                “No, a pirate” Oh, much worse. “The fates did me something good when they sunk that ship. I was a slave. You have freed me”

                “It was Magwayen”

                “Who?”

                “Our goddess. Of the ocean and death. She saved you so you can torment me”

                “Torment—“

                “I have been alone for so long, with you hunting my kind and being very good at it. It’s been years since I last saw any of them”’

                “You’re  the first one we’ve seen? You’ve been a legend for decades”

                “Time passes differently for us”

                “So, the thing that happened with the ship—“

                “—has happened many times before. Every time I get captured, everyone on board is doomed to die”

                “Ven— I, well—Thank you anyways. Whatever brought you to help me has saved my life. I’ve been taken from my family and I don’t know if I have anything to go back to, but you saved me and now I might have a chance to see them again. So, thank you”

                “I saved you because you were kind. This is rare among your people” And then Vicente dropped his head, his eyes stuck to the ground as he stared at his hands.

                “Me, kind? No, Ven. You’ve simply met me at the wrong time” He sighed. Joven contemplated his next words.

                “We can see through your hearts you know”

                “What?”

                “You can’t lie to a mermaid. Your faces are too easy to tell”

                “Faces can lie”

                “Yes, but your hearts cannot” And then Vicente rose up from his seat to loom over Joven. He placed his hands on both of Joven’s sides as he got too close that Joven had to press himself to the cave walls to escape his eyes. Vicente’s eyes burned through him.

                “You are too innocent” Vicente breathed, and he felt it spread warmth all over his body. Joven started to shake.

                “Are you cold?” Was he really asking that of a usually deep sea creature? Did he not know how cold it can get at the bottom of the waves?

                “N-no”, but he was shivering.

                “I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything else. Do you want to get closer to the fire?” Joven didn’t know what to do, so he nodded instead. Vicente carried him closer, and sat him on the sand as close as possible. Behind him, Vicente sat and he rubbed warmth back to his shoulders.

                They spent the next few days coaxing back strength to Joven’s legs. He returned to the water occasionally to return some strength to himself, and also to find a boat. Vicente on the other hand, was content on the rocks as he got out of the cave to fish during low tide and to hunt in the forests nearby on the island they were in. Joven did not know where they are—the storm had tossed them too far away, but he was slowly finding his way back.            

                Something in Joven clenched that he tried to tamper down. Vicente was easy to talk to, even with just the weather and ships as their only topics. Joven was also starting to tell him about himself, of his family and his curse. In return, Vicente showed him his scars, and the cruelty mankind inflicts even upon itself.

                Joven suspects that maybe he can’t find his way back is because he doesn’t want to. He tells Vicente, because that’s what’s fair.

                “I don’t blame you. I dont’t want to leave you here either” He says, his mouth full of coconut he climbed for just a few hours ago.

                “It’s not right. I need to return you” Vicente laughed, and then looked at him with serious eyes.

                “You sound like you stole me away”

                “Didn’t I?”

                “I woke up a few days before you, Ven. I could have escaped if I wanted to”

                “What?”

                “I could have built a raft, looked up at the sky. I know the way back” His mother had not survived long enough to teach him the stars.

                “You can map the stars?” He said, forgetting whatever else he was talking about.

                “Do you want me to teach you?”

                The niggling feeling of guilt did not leave Joven. Even though a few days ago he admitted to himself what he truly felt. _If you love him truly, you will let him go._ And so he swam as far as he could and dragged back the best boat he could find. Vicente had taught him the stars, the trees, he even taught him to walk on land. In exchange Joven taught him how to better read the sky, of how to tell if there was lightning in the wind, and what sea plants could heal.

                Joven knew he had to let go.

                Vicente agreed.

                And so here they were, close enough to see the shore of Vicente’s hometown. He could already smell the smoke from the houses where lunch was being prepared, hear the children playing and the farmers tilling the ground.

                “So, here we are” Joven felt like throwing up the breakfast Vicente prepared just for him.

                “Yes”

                “I’m going to miss you”, he said, because he had the rest of his life to regret if he did not say it now. Joven looked at his eyes, the tears stinging on his. Vicente leaned towards him, cupped his cheeks and wiped away one of his tears. Vicente’s eyes promised something else. Something warm and safe that Joven knew he could not resist. Vicente was offering him a future.

                 “Come home with me”, Vicente said softly.


	12. Whale (Grecinto)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They had a bet going. Of course they had a bet going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you thank you thank you <3

                      There was only one thing in life that Ilyong hated. It was losing. Wait. No. Losing to Goyong. Wait no, losing to Goyong and having to pay for it with something other than shame.

                      The weatherman was off by a longshot. No, it was not simply chilly. It was cold _and_ windy. With the amount of layers Ilyong has on you would think he would be unaffected. But alas, he was cursed to have skin the thickness of onion peels and only just enough fat to stay on his feet. Which is why Goyong was staring at him with a playful smirk on his lips, on the line to the rollercoaster ride like  a cat who finally got some –something. Milk is bad for cats in large amounts, he remembered.

                      “Want my jacket? I have two”

                      Goyong then proceeded to make a show of removing said jacket despite his protests. He then proceeded to slung the jacket over Ilyong’s shoulders and the chattering of his teeth immediately stopped. He hated Goyong’s guts but he was cold, sue him.

                      The jacket was dark brown and heavy, not something for the usual Philippine weather, but it was something that Ilyong desperately needed right now. Somehow, some time ago when they first became college room mates, Ilyong noticed that Goyong eerily knew what he needed. A pen he forgot? Goyong has his favorite brand. Paper? He had two pages already handed to him. A drink? Goyong suddenly has no meetings with orgs or his fraternity.

                      “You can back out now, Emilio”

                      “God, I wish you stopped calling me that”

                      “It’s your name”

                      “It’s your father’s too”

                      “I call him Papa. Do you want me to call you Daddy instead?”

                      “Fuck you”   

                      “There are children here, Emilio!” He leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “I wish you would, though”

                      Before he knew it, he was shoving a laughing Goyong in the too tight space, but he didn’t get very far because Goyong clutched him by the sides of the jacket and held him close.

                      “Fine, I’m sorry”

                      “You aren’t”

                      “Yep, I’m not. Do you want me to get you some food? We’ll be here a while. There are hot dog stands—“

                      At that moment, Ilyong’s stomach growled.

                      “Okay. I’ll get you something to eat, with bacon”, Goyong said as he excused himself from the tight barricade packed with people. He disappeared for quite a while. It got colder. Ilyong couldn’t see where he was because the line went around the ride. Ilyong counted his chances. Three rides and if he doesn’t scream in any of them, he’ll be free of Goyong’s annual gift giving. Every Christmas, something gets delivered, something weirdly embarrassing that he can’t give back because he lost another bet. Last time Goyong gave him a pair of sleep pajamas he’d been forced to wear because he ran out of sleep clothes—just in time for Goyong to have his blockmates over. Goyong gushed about it with his friends, complete with the grand tale of them being boyfriends. Ilyong ignored them. 

                      Now, Goyong wants to win him one of those stuffed whales he’ll get only if he wins at this basketball shooting game. As the shooting guard of their university, Ilyong has an eighty-ish percent chance of walking home with it if he screams.

                      It was the last ride and he swore to himself he wouldn’t. The Viking wouldn’t be the one bringing him down. It was easy. The Viking was one of his favorite rides.

                      At long last, Goyong squeezes his way back in line to deliver the goods. Ilyong’s mouth watered at the scent of overpriced hotdogs. He finishes it all in three bites, no matter how Goyong tilted his head at him in wonder.

                      “What? I was hungry”

                      “You should have said. I should’ve gotten you two”

                      “One is enough for me. Thank you” 

                      “Aw, babe”

                      “Stop it”

                      “You guys are so cute together,” a tall lady at the back said. She was carrying a baby by the hip, a baby who was now currently smiling a two-toothed smile at Goyong. She beamed at them.

                      “Aren’t they sweetheart?” The smaller man had a straight face, but his mouth crinkled at the corners. He nodded slightly and raised his eyebrows at Goyong. It made him blush. 

                      “I hope you have a wonderful family someday,” the woman turned to her husband. The baby touched Ilyong’s cheek. It was warm and sticky but he felt blessed somehow. The baby tried to put its hand to its mouth and Ilyong stopped it.

                      “No, no baby”

                      Goyong felt his heart stop beating for a few moments. It was clenching in the most beautiful way. He felt squeezed.

                      “Don’t scare them like that, _mahal_. But, yes, indeed they make a wonderful pair.” Of course they blushed to highest heaven. Ilyong bit his lip and chewed on it, burying his face to the collar of Goyong’s jacket. It really smelled like him, of something spicily floral that he can’t explain. It was also like grass and the smell of the clean air of the province, which reminds Ilyong of home. _Goyong is home_. He drives away the thought as it makes him blush.

                      The pair smiled at them and then continued with their own conversations. At long last, the line moved enough for them to be on the ride. Goyong looked strangely pale.

                      _He hates the Viking_. The school trips they took in elementary proved them. Ilyong though he got over his fear. He holds Goyong’s hand. Atleast they would be screaming together.

                      And they did.

                      Ilyong laugh-screamed halfway through because Goyong’s face was priceless. Goyong held his hand tighter than he ever did before.

                      Ilyong felt surrounded by him.

_All good things must end._

                      “So—,“ Goyong smirk was undeniably vicious. Wait. Fuck.

                      “So?” Ilyong’s hands shook.

                      “I won”

                      “You bastard! You faked it!” Ilyong wanted to throw something at him. The little bastard. He knew. He knew. He knew. Goyong was his weakness. He knew.

                      _Tell him._

                      No. He has to tell Ilyong first. This was one time he swore to himself he would never lose. He liked him but he would never tell him before Goyong does. Goyong holds out his hands.

                      “What?”

                      “I invoke bet number eighty-seven and demand that you hold hands with me for the rest of the night”

                      “How the hell do you still remember that? That was three years ago!” Goyong flicked his tongue at him and winked.

                      “I have my ways”

                      Ilyong had no choice. He put his hands out. The people behind them sighed secretly to themselves as they held hands. Beautiful.

                      Goyong’s head was racing to catalogue every moment. The way Ilyong’s hand shook, the way his blush was higher up on the cheeks, the way he sniffled because of the cold. The way he looked with his jacket on.

                      Ilyong wouldn’t let go of his hand to shoot.

                      “What? You said you wanted to hold hands for the rest of the night?”

                      “I love you _so much_ , Emilio” It was true. He said it as jokingly as he could because he was afraid of the truth and its possible consequences.

                      “Shut up and shoot”

                      He amazed Ilyong by shooting with only his left hand. Unfortunately, he got a lower score so they only got a small keychain whale.

                      He saw it on Ilyong’s bag hanging the next week.

                      He gathers up the courage.

                      “I love you so much, Emilio”


	13. Guarded (Mabinaldo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The great dragon only knew solitude. The king does not ask for his treasure, only of his hand.

                      The human had gall to stare him down, pointing his sword in his face. He was barely shaking, unafraid. Pole knew, through the magic of his curse,  the little king had nothing else left to lose.

                      And everything to gain, if he defeats him.

                      Pole pulls himself up to his full height, towering over the human. His scales gleam in the sun, breaking the light into a thousand pieces as it made the whole cave sparkle in the colors of the rainbow. His icy blue eyes focused on the human,  _Miong,_ his name was. He picked the name up from the man’s head. Pole usually  hates traversing through humans’ minds, but there was something that drew him to want the Miong’s secrets.

                      His mind glowed like lamplight, like brightness of the sun that he forgot in the darkness. It touched Pole’s mind like a caress, and it made him feel at peace, even though he had a sword pointed in between his eyes. Miong was wearing run down armor, chipped and dented in a lot of places. He wasn’t the usual knight banging on his door, demanding the treasure upon which he sat.

                      It was probably the loneliness. He tugs on his binds, making several stacks of gold fall from where he sat. He spread his wings, hiding the ages-old chain with his tail.

                      “Leave now, human. Keep your life for I am not interested in taking it today” Let me rest, rest and forget. Let me sleep the millennia away.

                      The king puts his sword down,  making his mind up about something. He was looking up at Pole’s eyes, and his courage made him look away. Pole passes it off as disinterest, he turns around and sprawls on top of his treasure. He doesn’t need to look at Miong to know that murdering him was not in his priorities. No. The little king was playing another game.

                      Pole wanted to play. Was there anything else to do?

                      _I know you._

                      His heart stops, and then it gallops. What did he say? How--?

                      _I know you, Pole. I know your curse. Help me help you._

                      There was once a story, far away into his childhood, that told of dragons and men. Of how both conquered the world through each other, and how someday he might find the human who he is destined to keep his secret. Pole does not believe in such fairytales. His people have taken into hiding, and men the reason why.

                      “Pole,” Miong says again, in his mind. Pole tried to keep him away.

                      “I do not want nor need your help, human. Leave me to my silence”

                      “I know how to break your curse, great dragon. Please, let me” The king kneels behind him, and Pole glances at him from the corner of his eyes.

                      “And what do you ask of in return?” Pole grumbled, seemingly bored. But Miong knew his heart better in the few minutes that they met.

                      “I ask of your hand” Pole’s mind stumbles, and he can’t help but lift his head in disbelief. He stares down at the king who had oh so earnest eyes, searching for the lie. Pole breathes hard, ice burning in his mouth.

                      “Ever since I was a boy, I have dreamed of you, searched for you. And now here you are”

                      “And now what, human? Do you intend to carry me back to your dying kingdom as your prize? I have no intention of breaking the back of your horse. Leave, and take your dreams with you”

                      “But I—“ Miong gets up, dropping his sword. “I remember every dream we shared”

                      “Nonsense”

                      The dreams? They were a random bunch of colors and memories that allow him to leave his bonds if only for a short while. In his dreams he lets himself ache and wonder, to dream of his future outside of this cave. In there he was in the arms of another, cradled away from his solitude, unknown but possible.

                      His dreams are lies. He knows his curse. He stops the tears from falling.  He spits ice at the little king’s feet, missing him by a scant number of inches. He draws back, his heart pounding.

                      “I will be your death”

                      His magic curls around him, showing him nothing but eternity in this darkness alone. He had no room for hope—and he wished he would leave.

                      “I know”

                      “There is no sky for me. I may be fated to you, but there is nothing here for you but darkness” Having me will break you. I know nothing but this prison.  

                      The king looks at him, his eyes sad. He sits down on an ivory seat, looking every bit regal but broken. That was Pole’s favorite seat when he shifts to his other form, where he rereads his books and counts his way through the stacks of gold. Thirteen million gold pieces, half of that diamonds, some rubies, emeralds and other useless pieces of rock he knew not.

                      _Who are you?_ , he asked the specter as he stepped forward—the grand hall behind him, its arches gleaming, the throne empty. He was banished and no heir would sit upon it now.

 _I am yours,_ the voice was deep and calming. His brown hair turned copper in the sun, his face angular yet soft on some of the edges. He stood in front of him as he sat upon the only other chair in the room. He would never fly, never again. But in the man’s eyes he felt the sky winds course through him.

 _Someday,_ the voice was more distant, fading with the dream, _I will fly with you_

                      “I will fly with you” Pole could not take it anymore. He shifts back to his normal human form, fitting himself into the small vessel and it hurt. But there is no greater pain than hope. He falls, showing him his cursed body. He wore a simple shirt and pants, and he could see the scars from where they tore his demi-forms wings.  

                      “I will never fly again” Miong looked thunderstruck. He was breathing slowly, unblinking. He walks slowly towards him, kneels once more.

                      “You’re—you look exactly the way you do in my dreams” Pole looks away, blushing. They have spent so much time together in the corners of their consciousness that he knew how he breathed.

                      “I am not the same there, there is no promised land. My kingdom has faded, I am one of its only remnants” Miong reaches for him, asking for permission with his eyes. Pole smiles the tiniest smile and then he runs his knuckles on his chin.

                      “Take the treasure. I have no use for it”

                      “I’m not here for that. I am here to take you home” _Home is you,_ he said in their dream—unthinking. “How do I prove myself to you?” Miong takes his hands, planting small kisses on his knuckles.

                      _In the dream, he had his wings. Miong was falling from the sky. He asks the stars, the sun, the moon. Let me catch him, just this once. Let him be mine. Even if it’s just tonight. Oh Goddess._

                      “You don’t have to”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am on twitter @sinaingsinala!


	14. Clock (Grecinto)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He dreams of rain, and Goyong. 
> 
> Starwars AU

               Ilyong was dreaming of rain.

               He was lying down on the shore, feet being kissed by the waves. So much water.

               He  lifts his face up to the sky, relishing in every gentle drop that fell on his face. Goyo watches him in silence. The rest of Ilyong’s years have been spent in the dry emptiness of that desert planet. Goyo could feel his elation through their bond. It made something in his chest twist.

               He wanted to question why the Force would connect them in this way, but the smile on Ilyong’s  face was something he wanted to keep. Selfish, but he never claimed to be otherwise.

               These are the things he hid from Miong. But now he had no master. Now he had nothing. Maybe now he could deserve him. No. No he never would.

               Emperor, but lost. Everything has broken him and now he was just tired.

               When they first met like this, Ilyong tried to shoot him. The memory always makes him happy. He hasn’t felt that way in a long time. His little rebel.

               Finally, Ilyong notices him.

               “What are you doing here?” Ilyong feels for the lightsaber that was usually at his hip, but it was Goyo’s dream, too. He wanted them to talk without the threat of a fight. He sits up, and there was so much sand on the buns in his hair. Everytime he sees him, Ilyong was more beautiful than the last.

               “This is my dream. You tell me” He knew what his smirk did to the little jedi apprentice. Ilyong still stared him down, but this time there was a blush that was creeping up his ears. Goyo ached to touch him.

               He gets closer, and Ilyong—rebel that he was—fights the urge to move away. He sits down, folds his limbs on the wet sand. He smiles at him, and Ilyong turns away.

               Ilyong has never seen him this at peace before. In all the times that they have met face to face, he either had his mask on or was deep into angry confusion.

               Nothing has changed, Ilyong. Remember, he is the enemy--even if you love him.

               He stares angrily at the sea. He hates not being in control of his emotions whenever Goyo was around. Ilyong breathes, prays for calm.

               “Atleast Andres taught you how to meditate before he died”

               “He taught me all I need to know”

               “Sure he did” His eyes always say more than his words. This was how Miong controlled him. He had so much emotion in his force signature that feeling it was like standing in the middle of a hurricane.  _Pretty eyes,_ his master had told him.

               But Ilyong could not deny what the Force was pushing them towards. He wanted to blame it, for the way his heart beat for him in the quiet while he wept after his mind was flayed. Because a good apprentice had no will for himself, only his master’s. But Goyong still did the things he did, and Ilyong didn’t think his heart could be any more broken.

               The drizzle stopped, and a faint rainbow replaced it.

               “Why did you come back here? Ach-to has nothing to offer you but ghosts” When he said the final word, Ilyong looked at him—truly looked at him, at how he was glowing a faint blue.

               “What is going on with you? Goyong?” Ah, his old name. He loved it when Ilyong said it, even though it was dead. Still, there was something in him that wished that he was still Goyong, that he could be by his side without all their shit involved.

               “I’ve been poisoned,” Ilyong hurries to him. He still hasn’t faded completely, but he knew it was too late when he came here. He could feel himself slipping away. Atleast the Force was merciful, it let him see Ilyong.

               He could see the betrayal, the confusion. He didn’t need to peek inside his head, Ilyong was an open book. Ilyong tried to reach for him, heal him. He held his wrists back gently, kissed his knuckles.

               “You knew”

               “Yes”

               “Why?”

               “Because I deserved it” A single tear from Ilyong, and then another. He stared at him in disbelief. Ilyong gaped at him for a while.

               “Who did this? The Resistance?”

               “Does it matter?” He smiled at him. “You’re free. Only Death can break a Forcebond. And Pole doesn’t have to worry about me anymore”

               Ilyong hands came up to his face, breaking into sobs.

               “He’s your father! Oh, Force, how do I tell him this?”

               “Don’t worry. He’ll feel it” Ilyong sobs louder. Goyong would break his father’s heart one last time. _I’m sorry. I love you._ He would know. Pole had the Force in his heart.

               Ilyong lifts his face, still beautiful in his grief. His eyes were furious. In another life, he wished the life Ilyong wished for him was possible. His hope beat in his heart, and it broke Goyong because he would never be able to give it back.

               Ilyong slapped him. It connected.

               Goyong just smiled sadly at him.

               He put his arms around Goyong, holding him too tightly. Goyong almost fell back on the sand, but he held on. Ilyong was very warm. He thanked the Force for letting him feel him. He breathed in the scent of the sea. He had everything now, except his father’s forgiveness.

               “Tell him I’m sorry”

               “Tell him yourself! You have time. Go to him!” Ilyong couldn’t breathe through his tears. So much passion. They both would never have been jedi. Goyong strokes his back to calm him. Ilyong falls to his lap. They were the perfect fit. Of course. They were destined for each other.

               Was this what the Force intended?

               “I can’t, love. The Forcebond is the only reason I’m here” Ilyong leans his forehead on Goyong’s shoulder, breathing hard. Goyong gently pats his head, finally feeling the buns in his hair. His hair was so soft. Goyong remembered the rumor about himself, that he used his enemies ashes to make his hair look as good. He chuckles. Ilyong punches his chest.

               “What the hell’s funny?” He smiles again, shakes his head. Ilyong was so close, his face a few inches away. He lifts his hands and wipes away his tears with his thumbs. Ilyong leans into his touch, closes his eyes. Goyong sighs. The poison was reaching his heart.

               He doesn’t let Ilyong notice, for what was his training if he couldn’t bear this one last moment?

               “I love you” He was happy about his last words.

               “I know” Goyong laughs—really laughs. How can Ilyong make him so happy while he’s dying? He remembers his parents, in the days that they still loved each other. Their love was glorious but it ruined them. Goyo would not let himself do that to Ilyong. He owed him that much. Goyong lifts his head up, leans his forehead on Ilyong’s.

               “I can feel you—fading” Ilyong gently places his hand over his heart. He can feel his Force signature twist in despair. Goyong tried to calm him, using techniques he thought he forgot.

               “I am. I’m sorry. For everything.”

               “I’m not forgiving you just because you’re dying”

               “It’s alright. I understand”

               “You made so many people suffer”

               “I know”

               “How do I still love you?” Goyong could not answer because Ilyong was laying waste upon his lips. He could only sit there and take what he gave. Ilyong put in his rage, his loneliness, his fear of being abandoned again.

 _“I’m not leaving you,”_  he says in his mind.

_“You are”_

_“There is no death, there is the Force”_ Ilyong lets them breathe. By the time he comes up, Goyong was gone. He left him only a faint smile.

               Ilyong screams.


End file.
